Let's Slow it Down for Couples' Skate
by Plissken The Serpent
Summary: After being sidelined from the fourth Super Smash Brothers tournament, the Ice Climbers make a return (To the joy of some, the chagrin of others, and the indifference of many)! While battling it out with the other Smashers, they will form bonds, develop rivalries, and possibly learn what kept them and the other cut members from the previous rosters. (Rated T...just in case?)
1. Chapter 1

_(08/12/2019) (UPDATED: 09/12/2019) Hey, potential Readers, welcome to an admittedly self-indulgent story. This is my first story, and if you don't know that by the fact that the ol' profile will show just one measly story, you'll __**definitely**__ notice by the writing. After a couple days' worth of revisions, refining, and something else that begins with "re", I got tired of looking at it and hit the ol' publish button. I hope you all enjoy it, and if you have any tips on writing, feel free to let me know! (Note: With their official relationship kept intentionally vague, I will state that Nana and Popo are not related in this story.)_

* * *

The air was still, and the skies were clear.

While these conditions didn't make for the strongest mountaineers, they were still considered blessings to those who lived within the harsh climate of what others might consider a frozen wasteland. Besides, the day's climbing exercises were already finished during the harsher weather patterns earlier in the day, and the respite was earned. Now it was time to rest.

"C'mon, get him! Get 'em, get 'em, get 'em!" A girl was shouting in rapid cadence.

"Go, GO! Don't let up!" A boy's voice joined in enthusiastically.

Well, rest would come later. For now, the monthly ritual of watching the broadcast of the fourth Super Smash Brothers tournament was well underway. The broadcasts were actually more common than once a month, with matches taking place throughout the first couple days of each week, but major events took place at the end of each month. This one in particular was slated to be the last event of the entire tournament, and Nana and Popo were determined to watch it from beginning to end.

They reclined together on a sturdy, comfortable bench, which had a small pile of various fruits and vegetables at both ends for snacking purposes. They weren't watching via a television set, as one would expect; somehow, the matches were displayed through the swirling lights of the aurora borealis across the skies above. Atop Icicle Mountain, it was easily the best spot to watch the action from. There was no sound, but fortunately a sort of closed-captioning was provided. Having the matches put out in silence turned out to be a more considerate option for Murasat Village and the other settlements below—especially during their hours of rest—for they no longer felt the need to watch the tournament now that they were no longer represented.

Even now, Nana and Popo would be lying if they said their exclusion didn't still sting a little bit…

How they found out they weren't invited back, however, felt much worse.

_~One Year Earlier~_

After their return from the third tournament, life had quickly returned to normal. The condor still stole the crops from their village, and the two Ice Climbers would pursue it up the mountain to retrieve its ill-gotten gains. A year and some months later, though, another one of these routine chases was in progress. The journey was expected to take no less than two days to retrieve a particularly large haul from their adversary. After the sun had set on the first night, the snowy conditions had suddenly changed to a clear night. A confused Nana had taken the lead position then, and was securing a piton in the cliff face when she looked to the sky to figure out why.

The gently-shifting colors of the borealis were there to greet her while she waited for Popo to scramble up alongside. A common phenomenon to see in this region, but the residents never seemed to tire of sitting back and watching the show. The village Elder often told stories of ancestors and gods dancing among the flickering lights, and as the flashes got more chaotic, Nana strained her vision to see if she could see anyone within.

Nana most certainly didn't expect to see Mario leaping towards Sonic with a fireball in his hands.

Popo would eventually settle in beside her, and it didn't take long for his gaze to travel skyward and see the same sight that had left his companion looking so despondent. Popo was so stunned by the spectacle; he had nearly slipped from his perch before he brandished his mallet. A quick swing was enough to embed it into the cliff's face, allowing him a handhold. _Now_ his emotions could echo Nana's. Outwardly, his expression was nearly identical, but the creak of his leather mittens against the handle of his maul was a clear giveaway of the underlying anger. Once he gained purchase with his crampons pressed into the ice, Popo draped his free arm around Nana's shoulders in an attempt to comfort her. They were safe for the moment, but eventually decided that they needed to keep moving. Better to shut it out and mull it over later.

The Ice Climbers would spend the rest of their mission in pursuit of the condor, against the backdrop of the Smash Brothers tournament taunting them. Upon their return to Murasat Village, they would quickly deposit their bounty and avoid an onslaught of questions by immediately ducking into their home and closing the shutters. They wouldn't come out for eight days, and it was only because the condor returned and took another harvest away.

It took a good while, but eventually Nana and Popo would be able to put aside their hurt and at least be able to support their friends, albeit from a very, _very_ long distance. And it wasn't like they were the only ones kept out. They also noticed that Solid Snake and Wolf O'Donnell were absent. The Pokémon trainer, Red, and two of his fighting animals were also missing…but somehow his dragon-like creature was competing by itself? Also still unaccounted for were a different young version of Link, and Pichu, who were in the second tournament and conspicuously missing from the climbers' last outing.

_~Present Day~_

"Don't get greedy! You're gonna over-extend and—NO!" Popo put his hands on his head, stunned that his armchair coaching _somehow_ fell on deaf ears.

"Hah! Pay up, Sucker!"

A brown mitten, at the end of a pink sleeve, appeared in Popo's face. An exasperated sigh escaped Popo's smiling lips, and he deposited an ear of corn in the palm. He should have known better than to bet on Little Mac after all these months of watching him mostly lose, but the boxer was on a hot streak in this final event. Unfortunately, Popo still wagered one of his favorite veggies even as the venerable Mario made his entrance opposite the plucky pugilist.

He really was a sucker for underdogs.

"I'll get that back, don't you worry." Nana blew out a small raspberry in response, and plopped the corn onto her pile. Betting food on the matches allowed them to make things a little more interesting, at least while they waited for the fighters they actually cared about. Somehow, King Dedede managed to last a long ways into this particular event, and they _had_ to root for the remaining mallet wielder. "Did you catch who was coming out next?"

Nana blew out a puff of air that made some strands of hair flutter from her forehead as she thought. "I think the captions mentioned Toon Link and Pikachu. I don't like how that'll probably end…"

"No, you're right. Poor Toonie; he probably won't get many shots in, but maybe he'll get lucky?"

"Maybe! He's bound to pull _something_ out of the usual spot, since he got this far." Nana gave a firm, single nod before reclining to turn her attention to the sky.

Popo smiled as he watched her, before grabbing a turnip from his pile and chomping into it. While chewing, he also reclined to look upwards. Toon and Pikachu were just now making their signature entrances and the match began.

Their predictions rang true to form, for the most part. Toon Link managed to catch Pikachu off-guard with a surprisingly vicious opening, but he was only able to knock off one of the electric mouse's allotted lives before he was rather unceremoniously eliminated by a rapid onslaught of high voltage attacks. Even for Pikachu, this seemed like child's play. Nana simply waved her hand like she was swatting a fly, but Popo had a more appropriate response.

"BOOOO," he shouted, grabbing a chunk of hardened snow and throwing it in the direction of the aurora. It didn't go far, but at least cleared the edge of the summit to plummet probably-harmlessly down the mountainside. Nana's giggles at these antics were the only validation he needed at this point, and brought on a blush just a shade too deep for him to blame on the cold. Popo wasn't exactly sure why his face was burning the way it was, but that was something to grapple with another time.

Besides, his theatrics at the match results were cathartic. It wasn't that he and Nana _disliked_ Pikachu; in fact, there weren't many in the roster that they didn't like when they competed. But the cat-eyed incarnation of the famous Hero of Time was a good friend of theirs. All of the smaller fighters needed to stick together, because they were almost always going to be underestimated by the 'grown-ups'.

The rest of the night went on at rather fast clip, the matches coming and going as these titans fought among the stars. Unfortunately, they had run out of favorite combatants to support due to eliminations—King Dedede pulled off a close upset against newcomer Cloud, against all odds, but was handily kept at bay by the unique fighting style of the Villager. Villager was then slapped down by the 'capable legs'—a term Nana did _not_ like—of Bayonetta. On the other side of the brackets, Toon Link was avenged when Pikachu was cast down by Mario, who was taken out by a Zero Suit-clad Samus (apparently having doffed the Chozo-crafted power armor for more freedom of movement). The final match of the final event of the tournament was at hand, and over way too fast with Bayonetta standing proud over Samus as the night's victor (Nana and Popo would boo and hiss and throw snowballs at this declaration). There was then a lovely closing ceremony, with the tired fighters either applauding each other or mean-mugging for the cameras, with very little in-between. The victories were tallied, the final prizes were issued, and one last screen thanking the viewers filled the skies…before fading back into the aurora borealis proper.

The two mountaineers sat in a companionable silence for a while, content to simply take in the serene view, before the sky gradually turned to gray and the stars slowly began to wink out.

"Well, Popo," Nana haltingly began, rather unsure what to do now. Sure they were tired, and sleep would obviously be the next step, but thoughts about the future clouded her thoughts. Would there be more of these tournaments? If so, were the two of them relegated to watching these matches from home? Would they ever be able to set foot on the (relatively) exotic world of Master Hand's grand design again?

Popo yawned and turned his head to face Nana before shaking his head slightly. "Let's not think about it too much. We should get to bed so we can deal with the Elder's guff tomorrow."

"You mean today!" Nana blew another raspberry and headed towards the tent they set up much earlier in the night. Popo would soon follow after a moment's contemplation.

His thoughts echoed Nana's. _Was_ it their fate to sit on the sidelines?

_~Universe #64, Still Present Day~_

"Aaaand, we're off the air."

A huge, floating, right-handed glove closed up into a loose fist, which then bobbed up and down from the wrist—an equivalent of a nod—before opening back up and lazily flexing its fingers. The Miis in the room—formerly Alloys, which were formerly Wireframes—were bustling about, taking care of various tasks pertinent to closing down the studios which handled the broadcasts from their world. The blond Mii that spoke was standing at attention next to the glove, a computer tablet held in spherical, light blue 'hands'.

"Excellent, Maxwell. And what of the ratings?"

"Highest they've been for the year, Sir, but not as high as the beginning of the last season. Certainly nowhere near the heights of the second season," piped up the same Mii, who had turned his attention to a series of monitors covering the news feed from a great number of news outlets throughout the multi-verse. A brief adjustment of gold-framed glasses, before a few button presses on his tablet brought up a display featuring a series of line graphs.

The glove slumped a bit, before he turned to "look" at the ratings chart display, which compared the viewership of the latest tournament to the first three. "I don't think we'll ever reach those heights again. None of us could have predicted that the oversights we had left in the computers would bring the battles to that level of intensity. It left the combatants extremely tired, though." It rested four fingers on the chart, and then spread the fingertips wide, which separated the overlapping charts into four individual screens. "The last two competitions were a slower departure from the second, but at least fighter welfare was much higher. I have even seen some critics refer to the fighting as 'lazy' or 'sluggish'. I would really prefer to put those comments to rest." Somehow, the hand managed to let out a deep sigh. No one knew how he could do that, let alone speak or…well, it wasn't important. After a while, you just stop asking these questions. "Do you have any suggestions for how the next tournament should play out?"

"The _next_ tournament?" Maxwell exclaimed, clearly caught flat-footed by this questioning. "Master Hand, with all due respect, do you think right now is the time to think about that? We haven't even checked the profits from _this_ one. I don't even know if we'll be permitted to host—"

"That is _enough_," Master Hand gently, but quite sternly, interjected. "This is merely a hypothetical. Though I'm quite certain that we WILL be granted the pertinent funds, and we have enough money saved from recycling materials from the third tournament. You _do_ know that we were the ones contacted first; to quickly throw together a tournament and quickly push it out of production, do you not? I'd say we at least performed adequately." He combined two charts—the third and fourth tournament ratings—and indicated the point where the falling ratings of the third and the rising ratings of the fourth briefly intersected before continuing their trajectories. "The sponsors mentioned something about 'sagging sales' before the fourth season was announced. I am not sure what they meant by that, but they certainly seemed satisfied when I spoke to them prior to this last broadcast. Again, please, what would you suggest?"

The Mii calmed down at this, pulling himself together and bringing up footage comparing the second and fourth tournament. They were both Fox versus Falco exhibition matches, running side-by-side. The action wasn't synced, but it _did_ show a clear difference in movement speed. "I would recommend turning the gravity up a bit; enough for combatants to gain better on-ground traction and speed, but still allowing them to take to the air as easily as before if they so choose. This might be possible by adjusting the restrictions on their combat wrist-mounts, combined with making further tweaks to the fighting environment. Speed, momentum…all of these issues should be solvable within the parameters of our systems."

Maxwell continued: "This would assuage _some_ of the complaints that people have voiced. It won't be a perfect solution, but I think this change in action will be able to help retain viewers and keep fighter wellness on the stable side. Unfortunately, there are other complaints apart from the fighting concerns," the Mii sat down and wheeled his chair over to another display, bringing up a series of snippets copy/pasted from E-mails and forum posts sent in from various viewers. "There have been complaints about the…the, er, roster."

The Mii was starting to lose composure at the end of his explanation, when he glanced back and saw Master Hand assume a rather agitated stance. Again in the loose fist, he was resting on a large desk built just for his use, and was rapidly and _loudly_ drumming his knuckles. A sign of impatience generally displayed by his more…eccentric brother; Master hand displaying such an emotion had put everyone in the room on edge. Every Mii stopped what they were doing to observe the exchange between these two.

"The roster is bigger than it has ever been," the hand started in a strained voice. "The largest variety of fighters the multi-verse has ever seen! What more could these people _want?_" While he wasn't shouting, there was a distinct edge to his voice; everyone except for Maxwell had backed away as if the hand had started juggling live grenades and bob-ombs. The Mii would steel himself before continuing.

"There are some demands, regarding new fighters, but I believe we can address those if we ever do start development for a new tournament. For now, though, I'd like to bring your attention to these," Maxwell tapped away on his keyboard for a moment, before bringing up a series of numbers on screen, which were accompanied by file photos and bio entries. "Numbers 15, 19, 22, 31, 33, 34, and 44; somehow these fighters have gained enough of a following that their collective absence stuck out like a sore thumb to the audience. Viewers have been…insistent that we bring them back into the fold."

Master Hand had stopped drumming his knuckles and assumed a rhythmic tapping of his index finger on the desk. A slow, but steady tapping that showed he was in a contemplative mood. "I think," he began, as he floated up and addressed the fighters on the display. Something about them tugged at the back of his mind, and he tried to recall exactly what the situation was as he continued. "I think we should address this in the future. For now, we have earned a rest. Get this equipment packed up for the laborers to move; I have plans to consider."

A loud snap of his fingers brought all the Miis back to their tasks.


	2. Chapter 2

_(08/19/2019)(UPDATED: 09/12/2019) Hoo boy, I hope I'm not establishing a pattern of once-a-week updates, but I really wanted to get this chapter pushed out before I forgot about it! I wanted to really thank everyone who took the time to read my little story in its fledgling development stages. As always, if you have any tips for me, they will be greatly appreciated. For now, though, I hope you all like italics and semi-colons!  
_

_~Nine Months After the Last Tournament's Broadcast~_

The song of distant Nitpickers heralded the impending dawn for Murasat Village and the other settlements around the foothills of Icicle Mountain. Chirps and squawks echoed down from the mountainsides, became amplified through the valleys of the region, and arrived at the ears of peacefully slumbering residents for a gentle, gradual awakening during the colder months.

In the milder months, it was a hellacious cacophony that startled people into falling out of bed, or hitting their heads on low slants in their ceilings.

Nana grumbled while rubbing the middle of her forehead. That was going to be a nasty bump, but at least the skin was unbroken. Briefly, she considered strolling outside and face-planting right into the snow for a few minutes to get the swelling down. No; the indignant posing just wouldn't be worth the relief. At least she was awake, though, and able to face the day with her grogginess at a relatively low level.

"I guess the Elder had to be right about _one_ thing this season," she muttered. It's not that the Elder was often wrong about things, but oftentimes his predictions tended to hold out for at least a couple more days. Oh well. Nana supposed the big project for the day would be to move the bed closer to the center of her room; at least far enough away from the slant in her half of the cabin duplex. Oh, but she'd need Popo to help with that, lest she leave scratches all over her floor.

She rapped her knuckles on the shared wall between their rooms before exchanging her slippers for her white boots, exiting her half and walking the short distance to Popo's half of the duplex.

It wasn't that Nana didn't appreciate their home being built for them, but sometimes she wondered why they needed to be kept separated like this. They were Murasat's champions after all, and it was evident in both their duties and their battles in the skies—battles that _everyone_ in the region saw—that they worked best when they were in tandem. A faint blush stained her cheeks while she, not for the first time, regarded the implications of that barrier; did the rest of the village think they were _animals_? Not even when they were away during the two tournaments did they do anything more than be a bit more affectionate out in the open… Nana giggled a bit when she recalled Ness's exaggerated gagging gestures when she and Popo engaged in sweet-talk.

It'd been a while since she'd thought about the tournaments…

Pushing those thoughts away at the end of the ten-foot walk from her door to his, Nana all but kicked open the door as she barged in. "Good Morning, Popo! I was thinking maybe we could move my—Popo?"

His side of the duplex was dark and silent. Nana first presumed Popo had gone out to visit with the Elder already; a notion immediately dispelled when she saw his boots neatly resting on the absorbent mat beside the door. She removed her own boots and carefully set them alongside his on the mat before investigating the room.

A quick glance at where he still lay upon the bed confused her at first. He was somehow still asleep? Sure, there were a few times where the birdsong was so sudden he'd knocked himself back unconscious, but on the first day of the warm season…it wasn't likely. Nana padded over to his bedside and examined him a bit more closely. He didn't _appear_ damaged; no bump, no bruise, and his light snoring seemed completely oblivious. She squinted a bit in the early-morning light filtering through the shutters and eventually found the reason: He was wearing Topi fur earmuffs! She was about ready to smack him upside the head before she caught herself—it really _was_ an ingenious idea, worth pursuing for the coming months. Get a little extra sleep, maybe wake up by the morning dawn when the sun's rays came through the windows... They might not even have to move the beds!

The idea to search for her own earmuffs brought her up short. She could find them later, certainly, but she'd been up too long to simply go back to sleep. All this thinking made the bump on her head pulse angrily anyway, and she was _not_ about to spend this morning eating breakfast alone. Once again, she regarded Popo's sleeping form. On the one hand, he looked so peaceful when he slept… But on the other hand, _he_ was usually the one getting _her_ up to face the day, and it was high time she got him back for it.

"Popo," she cooed, settling down beside his sleeping form and removing the earmuffs. "It's time to get up."

He grunted in reply, and immediately rolled away to face the wall. Nana puffed her cheeks out a bit, before grinning and narrowing her eyes appraisingly. She'll give him one more chance to comply…

"Come on, you're not going to let me go to breakfast all by my lonesome, are you?" A hand reached out to lightly settle on Popo's shoulder, and he predictably shrugged it off.

"Mrphl...G'way…"

"I see. I _see_…" She gave a determined nod, placing the spurned hand against the small of his back, under his now ridden-up sleep shirt, and began to channel. "I _did_ warn you, Love…"

* * *

An image needed to be kept up.

At least that's what Elder Harasen told himself as he walked the grounds of Murasat Village, a steaming mug of morning brew in one hand. Every few homes, he'd stop and greet a grumpy resident trying to power through the rude awakening brought on by the increased Nitpicker numbers. Harasen was always the very first one up and out the door—there were _no_ excuses for rest of these slacking villagers. Times may have made a change for the easier, but that should have instilled an even _greater_ sense of vigilance among the community! Even their champions, Nana and Popo, were starting to get lax! They would sleep a little longer, stop to rest a little more often, and there was even a little _sass_ seeping into their attitudes!

He forced himself to calm down and take a sip of the morning brew. They were still quite young, after all, and even he had to admit that the landscape of the village changed for the better since their humbling exclusion from the last tournament. The two climbers had decided to personally train an ever-expanding town guard to help ward off threats from the condor, and their previous battles seen within the lights of the borealis brought in many more opportunities for trade and friendship with the other villages around Icicle Mountain. However, they should still present themselves as the champions they are, especially if Popo planned on becoming an Elder himself! Sure, he never _talked_ about it to Harasen, but surely he'd wanted the position. How else could one explain those initiatives taken earlier in the season?

Sip. There he went again, working himself into a mood that wasn't entirely fair to those two. Harasen needed to focus on the good they were doing. Why, just last night, he saw Popo heading into the duplex-style cabin he shared with Nana rather early in the evening. The lad must have been the only one to heed his warning about the changing season, and was going to sleep at a reasonable hour! Yes, yes; he was going about this all wrong.

The Elder paused for a moment, before turning to head towards that very house. Surely they would be well-rested and ready to help with the breakfast preparations. Well, at least Popo would. The young woman would most likely need to be dragged out into the snow to join the waking world. Sip. They'll climb that hill when they reached it.

Harasen's approach to the boy's door was halted when an unearthly howl came from within, followed by a thump that rattled the windows and doors of the entire duplex. What was _that_? Was their champion under attack? If this assailant got the drop on Popo, of all residents, then the village was surely doomed.

From homes nearest the duplex, heads began to poke out from windows. Heads with open worry etched across their round faces. Harasen took a deep breath to bellow an alarm when something _heavy_ slammed against Popo's door, interrupting his intention. A second slam followed, before it swung open and Popo lurched out, clad in his pajamas. A brief spin showed the source of his assault; Nana was on his back, her right arm around his neck in a firm headlock, and her left hand was up the back of his shirt. Even in the cold, Harasen was able to easily see the mist from the ice spell she was casting. All the while, Nana was cackling madly while she clung to Popo.

"NANA!" Popo roared, arms flailing around in an attempt to loosen her hold. Unfortunately for him, he was too groggy to think right, and her grip was locked in tight. Instincts finally kicked in somewhat and he fell backwards onto the ground, rolling around in one final attempt to try and shake his attacker. The effort was in vain; Popo, Nana, and their yet undetected audience knew this. It clearly didn't stop him from trying to shout his way out of the predicament, however. "I'M UP! LET GO, OR I _SWEAR_ TO SILA I'LL—"

The elder loudly cleared his throat, and the two combatants halted their impromptu wrestling match to gape at him. The two faced the one, and nearly a full minute passed before they hurriedly disengaged from one another and stood at attention, quickly straightening out their bedclothes. Nana, for all of her efforts attempting otherwise, was snickering and poorly hiding it by covering her mouth with her hand.

Elder Harasen, presiding Chief of Murasat Village, chugged the rest of his soothing morning brew.

* * *

Popo's mood throughout the day had remained consistently dour from morning until now, and the sun's sheer _audacity_ to shine cheerfully on the denizens below was just not helping things. The one saving grace to his grousing was that it cast a pall over the group he was escorting to the training grounds. They respectfully stayed well behind his position—a good 50 meters—and he was allowed his first moment of privacy for the day. Very slowly, he turned his head to the left, to steal a glance at the only one willing to still climb next to him when he got like this…

Nana's unwavering, smiling gaze met his fully.

Startled, Popo recoiled as though he were slapped. If not for an already firm grip on his handhold, he would have surely taken a tumble down the mountain. In front of this new batch of volunteer trainees, on this easy trail, it would have brought on even more shameful an image in the eyes of the Elder. And more likely an even tougher punishment detail for them both. How was she _smiling_ at a time like this, anyway? They hadn't even finished the extra chores they were already saddled with! Preparing and serving breakfast and lunch, cleaning the feast hall after the meals, training new village guardians, and they would still be preparing supper and cleaning the hall one last time for the day.

Popo blinked when a realization hit him: The only reason they were both doing all of this was probably because one would have stepped in to help the other. It was actually kind of smart of the Elder to come to that conclusion, since they did it all the time. Harasen did _not_ like being undermined, after all.

No time to ruminate on this; this lesson needed to be completed, or the Elder would surely pile more burdens onto their shoulders for merely running late. Popo bit his lip and tore his eyes from hers with a sigh.

"Oh no, you are _not_ shrinking back after I finally got to look you in the eye today." A hand reached out to caress his cheek, and Nana drew his face towards hers to lightly nuzzle her nose to his.

Popo all but steamed from the ears at this display of affection, and a shuddering glance was cast down at the students. They hadn't advanced anywhere near the position he and Nana occupied, so he couldn't tell if they'd seen what happened. Even worse, the glum veneer he had carefully built up over the course of the day was starting to rapidly peel away.

"H-hey, what was that for?" Popo attempted to muster up another bout of gloominess, but the damage was done; a goofy grin was fighting for territory on his lips, and he turned away in a transparent attempt to hide it. They started to climb again.

Nana giggled softly before responding. "I _knew_ it was an act. It's just not like you to be like this, even during our worst punishments. What makes this one so special?"

Popo shrugged, finally giving up the front and focusing more on getting the blush off of his face from earlier. "I…just couldn't sleep. Felt like something was gonna happen today. Figured it'd be real late by the time I nodded off, that the Nitpickers would wake me right up. And…"

"…And something definitely happened, but the feeling didn't go away?"

Popo nodded, scrambling up to the plateau where the training sessions took place, before turning around to offer Nana a hand up. She took the offered appendage, and he easily hoisted her to a standing position next to him. "It's probably nothing. All the same, I want to get these lessons done with so we can be back home in case I'm right."

Eventually the rest of the group made it up to the large plateau that the Ice Climbers had set aside for the purposes of training. It was a simple setup, with numerous 'stations' at regular intervals along where the plateau met the cliff wall. Each station would cover the basics of each aspect of survival that Nana and Popo were either taught or developed together, and ranged from gear checklists at the easiest station, to their patented Belay move at the most advanced station. The youngsters were instructed to pair off, and then the lessons began.

Popo and Nana would spend the next couple hours alternating the demonstrations of various techniques from the mundane equipment inspections, to different applications of the rope systems. It wasn't at all an exciting lesson, but the students paid rapt attention without letting their gazes wander. Elder Harasen may have lifted the punishment completely if he saw how they took in the Ice Climbers' collective words and demonstrations. Okay, maybe not _completely_, as they were nearly done for the day, but maybe someone else would clean the feast hall at least?

By the time the lessons ended, the sun was just beginning to dip beneath the horizon. The chill would at least offset the sweat they had all accumulated from the more hands-on exercises the students had partaken in. Popo and Nana had decided then, for the group to practice rappelling to the bottom of the range's foothills to expedite the journey home. While watching the progress from the edge of the plateau, Popo was readying a rope in case a sudden rescue mission was needed of them.

"You think they'll need to be saved?" Nana moved to ready herself alongside him, her own rope slowly uncoiling.

"Honestly? No. Knowing our luck, though..." He sighed, shaking his head. "I'm just tired. I think after we eat and clean up, I'm just gonna take a ten-hour nap."

"Ha, sure." Nana paused a moment, resting a hand on his shoulder before continuing. "Hey, Popo…I'm uh…I'm _really_ sorry about this morning. I just—"

"Oh, don't even talk about that." Laughing, Popo brought his free hand up to rest over hers. "I think after some of the ways I'd ah…_encouraged_ you to get up with me, I think I had it coming. I think if the Elder didn't see us, I would have found it a hell of a lot funnier after a nap or something to eat."

His breath caught suddenly, when one of the students lost their footing, but their partner was able to firmly hold onto the rope while the first found the purchase needed to stabilize their descent. The first of the other pairs was just about to the bottom, and Popo felt Nana's hand tighten on his shoulder.

"It's okay, Nana; they're making progress. We should probably start heading down ours—Ow, OW! What gives!?" Her grip had turned from a tender hold into something resembling a vice clamping down on his collarbone.

Nana, for her part, said nothing, but he could hear her breathing hard next to his ear. A panicked glance towards the students below showed nothing dangerous happening; the one stalled group was actually finishing up their descent. Popo scoffed, barely registering one of the kids pointing at the sky, before turning a white-hot glare in her direction.

"If you're going to try to scare me, could you please be a little more…tasteful…" Popo trailed off when he saw her face. There was a litany of emotions crossing her features, but what instantly doused Popo's anger were the tears freely flowing down her cheeks, to bead and crystallize in the fur lining her hood. His reaction was immediate, and his focus immediately shifted towards placating his partner.

"Nana, I…" The hand on his shoulder quickly moved to cover his mouth. Nana was smiling now, and with her free hand she pointed up and to the sky.

"Up there, silly." She sniffled wetly. "I…I don't think you're gonna get the sleep you wanted to, though..."

Popo blinked slowly, before turning his eye to the skies above. Where the aurora borealis normally was, an image had formed. On a white field, the familiar circle logo of the Super Smash Brothers was on display, but then it quickly faded into a much more important image.

The eggplant silhouette stared down at them from the heavens above, and the words "WELCOME BACK" flashed over it in an alternating pink and blue pattern.


	3. Chapter 3

_~Later That Evening~_

By the time Popo and Nana returned to the village, preparations for a celebration were well underway. Upon their arrival in the feast hall, a mob all but instantly formed around them, everyone eager to congratulate the two on their return to the tournament. Elder Harasen had tried to maintain a frown when the news had come in, but the upcoming festivities and overall mood of the other villagers rendered this effort into a rapidly losing battle. His sour disposition wasn't _entirely_ unwarranted; this was a day he'd always feared would come, after all, even when they weren't in attendance for the previous competition. At the very least, all of the extra work they'd put in would help keep things safe while they were gone…

Wait a moment…

A realization came barreling into his mind, as if a Nitpicker had swooped down and smacked him in the face: They were _bored_ these days! The guardian training idea, the lax approach to their now mundane tasks, the sass, everything; it all made sense now! As this revelation came to light, another was hot on its heels: Even if he chose to forbid their participation, their wills were strong enough to openly defy him and leave _anyway_. To have the promise of an adventure ahead of them suddenly taken away, after having to not only sit out the last one, but having it practically rubbed in their faces… Were he in their place, Harasen probably would have dismissed those forbidding orders without a second thought.

These thoughts constantly flitted through his mind as he weaved through the crowd to approach the Climbers. Nana, somehow, spotted his advancing form and had motioned for the crowd to part, allowing Harasen to approach unhindered.

"I, er…Thank you, lass." A wry smile managed to win out as he drew within conversation distance of the climbers. Already, Harasen could see a clear difference in the way they were carrying themselves; backs were straighter, heads held higher. To see them like this again…it brought back memories of when they came back from their second tour away. They might not have taken first place, but they were well within the top third of the competition. They also made so many friends during their travels; no doubt the prospect of seeing them again also lent strength towards their demeanor.

He cleared his throat, attempting to bring a sudden surge of pride under control.

"They, ah, won't let me enforce your punishment," Harasen finally managed, a defeated sigh punctuating his sentence. It was true; once everyone had seen the sign in the sky, there was practically a riot for control of the kitchen to get the celebration started. The open, challenging glares he'd received from several villagers throughout the day after he'd laid out the Climbers' punishment detail that morning told him that cleanup of the hall afterwards would also be covered, much to his chagrin at the time.

Doffing the hood from his parka, Popo actually looked apologetic as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Don't worry, Sir, we'll manage to carry it out somehow." Nana had simply nodded and removed her own hood, content to watch the crowd as the two spoke. Her behavior intrigued Harasen, given the manic giggling she did when she grappled down Popo and sent literal chills up his spine this morning. Did they somehow have a falling out on the way back from the training sessions? A bushy brow was raised, attention drawn back to the lad.

"No, no—there's no point in it anymore. You've learned your lessons, haven't you two?" Waving off Popo's words, Harasen chuckled, which turned into full-on laughter when he saw their open shock. Their jaws had dropped so far down; the local fisher could have fit the catch of the day into their mouths with room to spare!

It took a minute, but Harasen was able to collect himself enough to clap Popo on the back. The other villagers, nearest to them, finally relaxed enough to return to the festivity preparation. Nana was also visibly relaxing, which crossed 'downhill spat' off of his mental checklist. Did she think he would somehow try to forbid them from leaving? The question brought him up short, as he recalled the swirling tempest of thoughts and emotions buffeting his mind but a few minutes ago; of course she did. They probably both thought that, after his reactions to their admittedly harmless roughhousing this morning…

Maybe it was time to talk.

The time, however, would have to wait. While he was forming the words, Harasen could only watch Murasat's champions get swept back into the crowd. He wasn't one bit surprised by this.

* * *

The music was powerful tonight. The players of the various drums and stringed instruments were especially known for their stamina, and there were more enthusiastic musicians waiting to relieve them, should they tire out. This party was definitely gonna go to 'question marks', and Nana was _so_ ready to push her body to the limit! Her vantage point from the dance floor was often obscured, but she made sure to keep an eye on Popo when she could. He was still seated at their table, eagerly putting away the smoked fish that never seemed to stop being served, as well as a heaping pile of vegetables. That boy will either be in a food coma or so full of energy, and Nana wasn't sure which she would prefer with his lack of sleep.

The latter, she decided, would be for the best. The party was for both of them, and it just would not do for one of the dual champions to be conked out while the other had their fun. There would be plenty of time for _that_ scenario to come up when they got to Master Hand's domain. She was sure Popo wouldn't nod off so soon; if he did, she could certainly give him a repeat performance of this morning's antics!

Okay, maybe that wasn't the _best_ course of action; the Elder would most certainly be around, chaperoning this event. The last thing Nana wanted was to incite him, and then they'd have to sneak off to the tournament without saying goodbye after he tried to confine them to their duplex. Would he do that, though? All of his reactions and shouting earlier in the day clearly showed he would, but something was weird about his behavior when they got back. Unfortunately, she and Popo didn't have time to discuss it as they were all but body-surfed to the table reserved for guests of honor and the food was served shortly thereafter.

Nana was just about ready to head for the buffet table for seconds, when she caught sight of a familiar gray mane weaving through the crowd in a different direction. Harasen was on the move. Nana decided she could put off her hunger for at least a little bit as she changed course to follow. Unlike Popo, she was not above telling the Elder _exactly_ what she thought of him right now, but she would at least attempt to be tactful about it.

Her first _tactical_ decision was that she needed to get ahead of Harasen, so she picked up her pace and deftly stepped around couples, stiff-armed her way through groups, and was able to reach the door a good five seconds before he did. Twirling around, Nana leaned back against the wall and affected an intentionally too-innocent gaze, combined with a small smile while folding her arms across her chest. The final touch was pressing one boot flat against the wall. She thought it would give the illusion that she had been waiting for some time.

Elder Harasen, to his credit, only paused for an eighth of a second in shock before his features morphed into a carefully blank expression.

"Lass," he intoned, betraying no emotion in the greeting.

"Harasen," replied Nana, somehow managing to emphasize the lack of honorific. A hint of a glare began to harden her eyes.

The Elder held her gaze evenly for nearly a minute, before he finally spoke again. "Of course _you_ would be the one to face me first. It is probably for the best, though. This is more your fight than Popo's."

Nana blinked and tilted her head slightly, before nodding. "I suppose you're right. Let's take this outside then; I really don't want Murasat's last memory of us to be ruining the celebration right before we left."

"Lead the way."

Nana pushed off from the wall and exited the feast hall, taking a moment to hold the door open for Harasen, and began to walk towards one of the vegetable gardens. Around the halfway point, they came to a couple of the many benches scattered around the village, and Nana ungracefully plopped down in one. Harasen settled in the bench opposite her, appearing deep in thought.

They stared at one another, a task at least simplified by the 'welcome back' display suffusing the area in white light. It was probably going to stay active until they departed, though Nana was clueless as to how that was going to be done. The last two invitations were completely different from one another; she and Popo would have to simply wait for further instructions.

Harasen cleared his throat, breaking her from her reverie. "I wish this were under better circumstances," he began, pausing as if in search of the right words. "I would have preferred to say this once to both of you before the festivities began, but I _am_ well-acquainted with repeating myself these days. I wanted to apologize for how I treated you two this morning."

"And that's _another thing_. Why did you see the need to—wait, _what!?_" For the second time this evening, Nana was caught flat-footed by his actions. How did he keep doing that? What was his angle? The Elder _never_ deigned to apologize for the things he did, often demanding apologies instead. He wasn't abusive in his station, but there were a great many times where things…clashed with his vision. Compromise was rare; this was impossible. Closing her mouth, Nana schooled her shocked expression into a calculating one and leaned against the armrest, pressing her fist into her chin. "What're you trying to pull, here?"

Harasen had the nerve to smile. She was just about ready to unleash a verbal salvo when he spoke again.

"I'm too old for that nonsense, these days. What you're hearing is the genuine article." He sat up straighter, smiling a bit more widely. "What I have done today—and did in the past—was unacceptable. I got so caught up in the image our village presented, that I had forgotten what beats beneath it. You two are the spirit of the village, and I shouldn't be stifling your needs—or those of anyone else here; I should be helping them grow and flourish."

Nana, for her part, remained silent while she absorbed these revelations. Could Harasen _really_ be saying these things? She shook her head momentarily, before reaching down to grab a handful of snow and slap herself across the face with it.

"Okay, so I'm not imagining this." She mumbled, bristling at his sudden burst of laughter. "Hey, if you were in my place, you'd think this was a dream or something too!"

It took a coughing fit to get his laughter to stop, but Harasen eventually composed himself into something more fitting to his station, and he leaned against the backing of his bench, hands folded over his lap. "A bit of a dramatic test, but no, you're quite right. And this is not a dream—or a hallucination like when Popo tried seagull wine that one time…"

Oh, how Nana tried to keep her glare in place. It was a valiant effort, for sure, but the way her lips twisted and undulated revealed it to be an ultimately futile one. The memory came flooding back; the conjured image of Popo, standing on top of their home, screaming obscenities and battle cries while swinging his fists at unseen Topis and Nitpickers sent Nana into a fit of laughter that left her clutching her stomach and kicking out her legs. It had taken her and four freshly-trained village guardians to subdue the boy, and he could barely function the next day while he worked through a major headache and upset stomach combo.

"O-Okay… okay." She finally got her giggles under control, punctuated with a decidedly unladylike snort. "Maybe this is real," her expression had taken on a more serious edge. "But I'm not going to just instantly forgive everything after an apology, you know? I don't think even Popo will, and you know how patient _he_ is with your authority." She then stood, and glanced back towards the Feast Hall. She could see a few people steadily coming and going; even some unfamiliar parka styles started to make appearances…apparently the beacon was drawing in people from out of town. "Look. Let's just forget today's stuff happened for now and head back to the party. Whaddya say?"

"That is fair," Harasen tilted his head forward briefly, and also rose to his feet. "I hope you two will be able to at least think about it while you're off at this thing you love so much. But for now, there is fun to be had; Go get the lad and celebrate like you _should_ be doing!"

Nana smiled a determined smile, before she took off for the hall to do just that.

* * *

_~The Next Afternoon~_

Some mountains, Popo decided with resigned sigh, were simply not meant to be conquered.

He held his empty framed backpack in a shaking grip, engaging his imposing adversary in a staring contest designed to wilt it into submission. The pile of clothing heaped onto his bed, to its credit, absolutely refused to bend to his will.

"Well played," Popo grumbled. He did _not_ like the activity of packing, especially for long excursions like the one they were about to partake in. Not only did it involve the arduous task of folding up all of his clothing and somehow fitting it into his bag, but also organizing it in such a way to maximize balance and movement. And there was a _lot_ to put into this bag. Somehow, they were to squeeze in seven extra parkas, the boots and mittens that went with them, and their underclothes. On top of those articles, they also had to work in casual clothing for when they weren't fighting—most days of the week, if he recalled—as well as personal effects for hygiene. Food and water was most important, however, in case a lot of travel was required.

Maybe he could put this off for just a little while longer…

Popo had just settled into a chair, halfway to propping his feet up when a knock on his door sounded. He sighed. "Come in."

Nana poked her head inside, one hand covering her mouth as she gasped. "_Really_, Popo? What gives? You're usually the first to be done with this stuff."

"Please, Nana. I just need, like, an hour's rest to clear my head." Popo finished propping his feet up and folded his arms to assume the position for just that. He had just closed his eyes, when he heard a sigh and a cluck of disapproval.

"That's not very 'leader-like' of you." A light chuckle, followed by a '_fwumph_' sound. Popo would open one eye to see Nana lying in his pile of parkas, arms and legs splayed out as if she were in the middle of making a snow angel. "But you have a point; I didn't finish packing either. I laid everything out, and then came here to bug you into maybe…doing it for me?"

The eye closed. "No."

"No?"

Popo grinned. "No. but if you let me sleep, maybe we can work out a compromise." Instead of just trying to nap, now Popo made sure to keep his eyes closed in case she tried to pull one of her signature adorable faces. Nana didn't always do it, but she was quite good at pulling heartstrings when there was something she _really_ wanted. He could avoid that by not looking at her; when it came to these little games they played, Popo was pretty good at predicting most of her expected moves and planning ahead of them these days.

It was when she did _unexpected_ tactics, that Nana truly surprised him.

A sudden weight landed on his lap, causing a surprised squawk to escape his lips. Popo snapped open his eyes to see Nana stretched out perpendicular to his position, back and legs draped languidly over the arms of his thankfully sturdy chair; Popo made a mental note to thank the village's local carpenter and maybe kick some sort of compensation his way. For now though, he turned his startled attention to Nana. "I don't know what you're driving at, Nana, but I'm not packing _both_ of our bags!"

"Shhh," Nana mumbled, placing a finger to his lips. "If you're going to nap, I'm going to nap right here with you. We have a long time ahead of us to be able to do things like this again, so why not get used to it?" She slipped her left arm behind his neck, and rested her right hand over his chest, before snuggling her face into the crook of his neck. "So let's rest up and then we can pack together, one bag at a time."

Tension melting away, Popo awkwardly (she had pinned his arms beneath her when she jumped into his lap) managed to bring his arms around her form, and sighed in bliss. It'd been too long since they were able to rest like this, no thanks to that stupid wall separating their halves of the cabin. Maybe he should talk to the Elder; see about taking it down. _That_ was going to be a shouting match he wasn't looking forward to…

Speaking of the Elder…

"Hey, Nana?" murmured Popo after a few minutes.

"Yeah, Popo?" The way her breath tickled the side of his neck when she mumbled caused Popo to squirm and laugh softly, but he forced himself to calm down so he could continue on. He felt this was something he should know about.

"What happened between you and Elder Harasen last night? I saw you two leave, and it looked real tense at the time." He felt Nana stiffen as his mention of the Elder, but it was only momentary. 'Tense' was an understatement. From where he sat at the time, Popo was all but certain she would have punched the Elder.

"We…we had a talk last night. The short of it, he apologized to me, but I'm…" She trailed off a moment, before he felt her shift position. He opened his eyes to see her sitting upright, looking down at him with an apprehensive look in her eyes. "I'm just not sure how to take it. I don't even sure if he _meant_ it, but he said to at least think about it while we're gone. What do you think?"

Popo let it all sink in, nodding along while he thought about the implications. Maybe the Elder was actually willing to turn things around, but there wasn't really enough time to hash it out with him. He'll have to wing it for now.

"I think he's being honest about it. I've never seen him do anything so devious as to fake an apology to betray anyone. If you saw the same things that I did when we got back, then I think there's some sort of change going on in that heart of his—" Nana snorted at that "—but we're not gonna have a lot of time to address it."

He looked around, then. "Think I'll worry about sleeping a little later. For now, we should pack our things and get ready for…however we're supposed to head back to Master Hand's."

A quick nose-nuzzling after Popo's 'orders', and they got to it. Nana would handle the rolling up of the parkas, and Popo would expertly sort them into the main compartment of their backpacks on top of their boots. The mittens would be stuffed into various side-pockets, which would leave the Climbers' personal effects to be packed on their own. Nana probably wouldn't have objected to it, but Popo refused to handle her other clothes. It never felt right, for some reason. No doubt his discomfort would have provided Nana a great source of amusement and stories; Popo would never willingly hand her that sort of ammunition.

Popo was in the final stages of filling up his pack when a dull roar of shouting reached his ears. Glancing up, he looked around and shrugged before returning his attention towards examining a pair of socks for packing. The shouting was getting louder, and curiosity quickly won out for him. Eyes all but blinking independently at this point, Popo got to his feet and trudged to the window to see what everyone was getting riled up over.

Well, _this_ was certainly a sign if he'd ever seen one.

What looked like a red Smash Ball had made an appearance amidst a volatile sky, and was sailing almost lackadaisically through the air above Murasat Village. Mesmerized, Popo didn't realize his face was pressed so hard against the glass while he watched the spectacle play out. It looped and swooped through the air, picking up speed and possibly purpose before it dropped down, low to the ground, at the center of the village. Once it made almost-touchdown, it zoomed straight towards their duplex, with no regard for the residents who needed to dive or roll out of the way to avoid the thing.

Upon its arrival to their modest abode, the orb came to a dead stop to hover just outside of Popo's window. For a long minute, it floated there motionlessly. Finally, it bobbed once as if in confirmation and moved over to Nana's window to repeat the procedure. Seemingly satisfied, the otherworldly ball shot up into the air, out of sight. Popo then saw a red streak across the sky as it made a beeline to slam into the side of Icicle Mountain, about a quarter of the way up from ground level. The impact could be _felt_ from as far as their duplex; Popo's teeth rattled painfully against the window before he peeled his face away from it.

Apprehensively, he exited his half of the cabin to peer up towards the 'Welcome Back' sign in the sky to see that it had changed.

A digital countdown took its place, with the words "TIME UNTIL INVITE EXPIRES" beneath. They had thankfully been around digital clocks often enough during the past tournaments to be able to see that they had a comfortable amount of time to make that climb. A half day's time allotted to reach the impact site, from his understanding of the numbers scrolling down…

Popo didn't want to take any chances. They would leave within the hour, and arrive well before that countdown expired.

"Nana!" he shouted. "I think our ride's here!"

* * *

Popo and Nana, strapped down like upright pack animals with their too-large backpacks, stood in front the small crowd gathered at the center of Murasat Village. A little _too_ small, Nana decided, to be everyone that lived there. Was everyone still sleeping off the effects of last night's party? Nana didn't think so.

There wasn't any ceremony involved, but Harasen and Popo took a few minutes to engage one another in low tones. They then nodded to one another, shook hands, and Nana saw a pensive look on the Elder's face before the duo was off towards their destination on Icicle Mountain. As they left, Popo filled her in on the brief discussion; basically echoing what she told him earlier during their aborted nap attempt.

Only when they saw the foothills of the mountain range in more detail, did Nana realize why the crowd seemed so small when they left the village. The path before them was flanked by the twenty pairs of the village guardians that they'd trained throughout the last season. Their positions in the mountainside firmly established, each pair held out ropes for Popo and Nana to easily hoist themselves up without fear of losing their footing or any of their packed supplies, and the two Ice Climbers gratefully took the offered help. When each pair of guardians had finished their portion of the task, they would belay up the mountainside ahead to the impact site. The efforts of these extra climbers had rendered an hour's climb into a trim twenty minutes, and Popo and Nana could not even begin to keep their pride in check when they reached the designated landing.

With the boys on the left flank, and the girls on the right, Popo and Nana fell into lockstep on their approach to the orb, where it was embedded in the side of the cliff. Nana felt the hot sting of prideful tears pricking at her eyes, but refused to attempt blinking them away; she didn't even need to look at Popo to know that he was also going through it. Wordlessly, they stopped just outside of arm's reach of the crystalline sphere, and turned to face the gathered protectors to their home's lifeline supplies.

The Ice Climbers then struck one of their signature victory poses, a high-five, as a salute to their disciples. They were answered with the sound of forty hands slapping out twenty high-fives, beginning at the rear of the flanks and travelling one by one up to the front. Nodding to the gathering, then to each other, Nana and Popo then turned to the pulsing ball and simultaneously rested their mittens upon it.

The ball's pulsing light quickened its rhythm almost eagerly, and a low hum reverberated through the ground immediately surrounding Popo and Nana. It culminated in crimson lightning arcing outward in a short radius, rapidly enveloping the duo in a bubble of light that started out the same shade as the lightning, quickly shifting through lighter shades of red until it was pure white. The gathering would later report to the Elder that they briefly saw black lines bisecting the bubble, before it vanished with a loud _pop._

And they were gone.

* * *

_Author's notes: (08/28/2019) Phew! Well we're finally getting to the proverbial fireworks factory, folks! I want to once again thank you all for the reads you've been throwing my way, as well as the favs/follows/reviews. Updates to this story may or may not get wonky, as I'm trying real hard (and failing) not to push these updates out so fast, and I may take a crack at better editing the first two chapters. Any updates to those will be mentioned in these notes in the future, in case people wish to go back and check them out. As usual, if you like what you see, or have any tips to make the writing—especially the exposition—less clunky, drop me a review or a message! _


	4. Chapter 4

_(Quick note: Chapters 1 and 2 have been updated. Nothing major; they just look a little better.)_

* * *

_~Universe #64~_

Master Hand, while not normally one to gloat about his creations, often found himself marveling over the sheer technological _superiority_ of his latest work. The Main Control Room, where he was currently overseeing the final checks of the systems, buzzed with activity from the numerous Miis working at their stations. Were any of them able to think to touch the floor, the power of their latest computers would be felt humming beneath its metallic surface. Monitors lined the walls, servers filled the corners, and neat rows of computer terminals saturated the floor space. At the center of it all was a custom-built console specifically for Master Hand's use, should he feel the need to take more direct action.

All of these crucial, powerful instruments provided their own contribution towards a veritable symphony of order.

He could only pat himself on the back of the hand for so long. Tearing his gaze of wonderment from his creations, he turned towards Maxwell, who was patiently floating alongside. "Do you have a status report for me?"

Maxwell smiled, taking a moment to push his gold-framed glasses up onto his 'nose'…though he never actually needed to do such a thing. When did he pick up that tick? Master Hand supposed it wasn't important, in the long run. He created them for the sole purpose to emulate humanity; emotions and idle actions were just things that came from exposure to people.

"Everything is coming up a lot more smoothly than it did during last season's development, Sir," Maxwell responded, gaze returning to his tablet as he checked on some of the facts. "The Original Twelve have finished testing out our new combat systems, and are reporting favorable results. The mountains of paperwork you've filled out have finally been approved by that Kharadjai bureau, and the rest of the initial invitations have been sent."

Master Hand sighed as he recalled the red tape that he endured. It felt like a thousand forms per combatant needed to be completed, ranging from liability over the competitor's injuries—despite his systems never allowing for lasting physical trauma of any kind—to liability over the competitor's _universe_. He also needed to fill out a sheet detailing how a fighter would be able to return home if called upon, and how such an event would impact their place in the roster (It wouldn't). It was all such tedious work, but those people apparently had much, _much_ more experience in handling problems within the Multi-verse.

His fingers curled into a fist and he pivoted his wrist laterally, as if shaking out of his reverie.

"Excellent news, Maxwell." He paused for a moment, thinking. "_Every_ invite was sent? Have there been any responses yet?"

Maxwell shook his head, the blocky blond 'hair' atop his head twitching with the motion not unlike a mold of gelatin. "We're still trying to get the last batches sent out. The Department of Locating Competitors is currently trying to work out some of the logistics. More than likely, any new fighters will need to make their debuts during one of the weekly shows, so we can properly build up their matches for the monthly event following their debut. Personally, I recommend the first show of the month. A handicap may need to be allotted, to make up the difference in victories, or we could just extend the season. Maybe we can get an extra year in, if the sponsors are generous enough."

"As for the invitations, there haven't been any responses, yet," Maxwell continued. "But the systems are showing a 'delivered' status for all sent missives; the last ones were just sent out a few hours ago. The hardest part was getting the invitations out to some of the more…backwater regions these fighters hail from. Did you know there are _still_ some worlds that don't have even the most rudimentary postal system in place? The delivery team had to get creative, but it got the job done…hopefully with minimal destruction to the environments."

Master Hand let out a low, rumbling laugh as he took this in. "The result is what is most important. As long as we get their attention and they wish to join us, I care not how it was achieved. Fortunately, Opening Ceremonies will not be for a few months yet, so everyone should have plenty of time to get acclimated—"

Master Hand was cut off by an insistent beeping emanating from Maxwell's tablet computer, and he watched while his assistant frantically attempted to address the cause. Eventually the Mii looked up and stared across the Control Room. The beeping was syncing with a pulsing red light on a distant monitor at the far end of the room. As Master Hand understood, that particular section of displays was set up to indicate that a corresponding Smasher was in-universe. The pulsing red light then changed to a steady green, to join the twelve green lights already on the display.

"Well, well… Sir, it looks like we already have a new arrival: they're on Platform 15. Can't say I'm surprised they showed up so fast, given last season's…incident." Maxwell looked up expectantly towards Master Hand. "Are you ready to greet them?"

"Of course," Master Hand replied, before snapping his fingers and vanishing from sight.

* * *

Popo didn't even have a chance to register their method of travel. One moment they had their hands placed upon the strange Smash Ball, and the other they were standing on a pristine, white platform overlooking a forested vista during…either sunrise or sunset; they would find out in a few minutes. Somewhere behind them, the dull roar of a waterfall was audible, but not to where they would need to shout to converse.

Not that Popo was capable of speech at the moment. The instantaneous nature of their travel had left him quite disoriented, and the sudden spike in temperature left him breathing hard with a runny nose. The heat also made him want to sleep. Maybe he could just…lean on Nana for a bit and—no! He needed to put up a strong front; at least until they got to their room in the Mansion and he could sleep.

Noticing their hands were still extended before them, resting on an object that was no longer there, Popo took Nana's hand in his and smiled. A quick glance away from the (rising, it turned out) sun revealed that theirs was one of many similar platforms circling an enormous natural basin, each with their own sign displaying a number and accompanying symbol. All of the symbols immediately visible to him were recognizable; a stylized mushroom with eyes, three smaller triangles joined at the corners to form a single large one, a circle with the top half colored in…And at the edge of _their_ platform, a purple eggplant with eyes, painted over the number fifteen.

After a few moments—and taking the time to make sure he wasn't dreaming—Popo turned and grabbed Nana by the sides, lifting her up to twirl them around and around. She gave a squeak in surprise, and broke out into giggles as they spun together.

"We made it, Nana!" He shouted, holding her up higher as a wide smile broke out over his round face. Eventually Popo would slow down, lowering Nana for a quick nose-nuzzling. "I can't believe…" He wobbled on his feet for a moment, as the temperature change fully hit him. "...So _hot!_" He barely had the presence of mind to set her down before plopping down onto his rear, focused on shedding his thick winter clothes. This was their _third_ time here; why did he always forget about the heat!? He barely heard Nana following suit in her own attempt to cool off.

Most of their casual clothing was packed too deep into their overstuffed backpacks, so they settled with tying the arms of their parkas around their waist. They would have to walk around in their undershirts and winter pants until they could unpack. Popo, feeling significantly cooler, wandered over to the railing of their platform and folded his arms over it, Nana mirroring his pose. He suppressed a laugh at Nana's shoulder-length hair, locked in battle with itself. Her waterfall braid was coming unraveled, and the stray follicles couldn't seem to decide if they were sticking up from the static of her parka's removal, or laying flat from the sweat. No doubt his much shorter hair was doing a similar song and dance.

They could only really stand in silence for so long. Fortunately, it was Nana who broke the silence, since Popo just didn't feel like looking for the right words at present. The uncertainty tingeing her voice wasn't something he wanted to hear, though. "Popo…are we, ah, supposed to _meet_ someone here? I remember at least a few Alloys puttering around the last time. But this almost looks…abandoned."

"That's because you two are the absolute first to arrive," a new, sonorous voice boomed from behind the Ice Climbers, startling them. Popo, on instinct, had actually reached for a hammer that wasn't there—it was strapped to the backpack leaning on the railing beside him—as he turned around to face this newcomer.

He somehow managed a calm front when he saw that the voice belonged to none other than Master Hand, floating in the middle of the platform they occupied. "How do you keep sneaking up on people like that?" Popo asked after a rather long beat.

A humming sort of chuckle came from the hand, before he waved dismissively. "Trade secret, I am afraid; I cannot go around ruining the _magic_ of this place, after all. But since you arrived so quickly—" He gestured towards the area behind him, encompassing all that could be seen and more—"Allow me to say welcome back to Universe #64."

"Thank you," Popo began to smile as he spoke, but stopped partway when he caught part of Master Hands little speech. "Wait a second. 'Arrived here so quickly'? The thing said we only had a half-day to get here, and we were _not_ taking our chances on missing out!" Less than five minutes after reuniting with the very _creator_ of this world and its prestigious tournaments, and Popo already found himself raising his voice at him.

Master Hand's reaction was not expected. The two of them fully expected some sort of threatening display, but instead the tournament organizer closed up into a fist, an index finger extended as if trying to insert into a conversation.

"Wait, stop. _Stop_. A half-day, you say?" At the Ice Climber's synchronized nod, Master Hand's posture reflected the stroking of some invisible chin. If not for the fact that they've seen the eccentric left hand, Crazy, well away from Master quite often, Popo would have thought there was an invisible 'head' that spoke for them. Maybe one day he'll fire an ice chunk up there and find out. Master Hand continued after a moment. "You're _certain_ that you only had twelve hours?"

"Y…Yes." Popo had taken a moment to think back to the display. There were only three sets of numbers for the expiration warning: Hours, minutes, and seconds. When he relayed that information, Master Hand had gathered up into a fist, trembling. Popo was just getting into a defensive position, one hand guiding Nana to stand behind him, when the fist loosened, and Master Hand had resumed a more default posture.

"I…see." The hand said, his tone turning neutral. "Apparently there are some…things that need to be addressed. In the meantime, let us take this to my office. We need to get your setup finalized for the Tournament registration."

Without waiting for an answer, Master Hand snapped his fingers and they all vanished.

* * *

Nana's first thought was that she was getting _real_ sick of being teleported around like this. Her second thought wasn't so much a thought as it was a sigh of relief at the air conditioning in the extravagant office of the giant, disembodied hand. As they settled into the chairs before the enormous mahogany desk of Master Hand, she tugged at the collar of her undershirt; an effort to circulate more air over her to cool off.

"First order of business," Master Hand began, "is to start drawing up your contracts. Of course, to do that, I will need my Personal Assistant." Another snap of his fingers summoned a…well, Nana wasn't sure _what_ this creature was. She had seen them in the crowds during the broadcasts, but with time, she was bound to learn.

The strange creature had popped into the room, and was not facing anyone, apparently having been summoned in the middle of a heated conversation.

"—think I care _how_ it gets done? We need the closed-circuit feeds for the western hotels fixed _yesterday_ and—why am I in your office, Sir?" He first turned towards the desk, and then noticed her and Popo in the chairs. "Ah, I see. Number Fifteen: The Ice Climbers. Allow me to be the second one to welcome you back to our realm. I am Maxwell, the first of the Miis created from the Alloys." At their lost expressions, Maxwell added, "Our personalities were sort of…transferred over into new vessels. I believe having more emotive features made us our constant presence more…palatable for visitors."

The Ice Climbers murmured their thanks for the welcoming words, as well as an understanding of the Mii's explanation about his kind. Shortly thereafter, began what Nana always considered to be the absolutely most boring part about their stays in Universe #64: the paperwork. There were a slew of forms presented before them, once their chairs were raised to be level with the fancy desk, which they had to go over. It was a combination of contract papers, liability waivers, and a lot of miscellaneous forms. Dear Sila, all of the _signing_ they had to do… They'd surely have to spend at least an hour icing each other's wrists once all this was done.

Following the tedious paperwork, there was a crash course on the rules of conduct, which covered everything from fighting outside of sanctioned matches (Do not), to threats against staff and tourists (Do not), to vandalism and theft (Also do not). There was also a briefing on how to handle press interviews (Not without staff present to record for their protection/records), and even appearance requests (Meet and greets, autograph sessions, promotional packages, merchandise endorsements). Most curious was the last part, which mentioned a temporary confinement to quarters.

When Popo asked about that, Master Hand was eager to clarify: "Your return to action, among other things, is planned as a big surprise for the audience. You two will have free reign of the non-restricted areas until the tourist seasons begin, then you will be, ah…cordoned off until after opening ceremonies. Then you will have free reign again. Speaking of which—" he snapped his fingers, and some maps appeared on the desk, in addition to an extra piece of paper detailing a loose schedule for the next couple of months.

Maxwell took over the instructions then. "You two will need, within the month, to go meet up with the coordinators at the Primary Arena, which is detailed on the map. You will have to come up with a unique ring entrance, and you will have the following two months to rehearse it and get your timing down. You will also have your entrance theme from the Third Tournament to accompany you."

"I like that theme," Popo laughed, and Nana nodded in agreement.

"We thought so," Maxwell stated, a smile _flickering_ onto his face with a small burst of snowy static. It will definitely take a while for Nana to get used to that.

"The last thing to talk about is the matter of your Currency Cards. You have coins already allotted to your accounts, and you will accrue payouts the usual way. You will also each receive a Meal Card, which will grant you three meals per day, but you can always order more food with your Currency Card. Both types of cards are on the living room table in your lodging. Due to some concerns—and lost keys—during previous Tournaments, we've decided that your touch alone will be enough to open the doors to your home. If you don't mind…" Maxwell held out his tablet computer towards Nana and Popo, and it helpfully prompted them to rest both of their hands, one at a time, on the smooth screen. Once they each performed the task, the Mii consulted the tablet and nodded once, returning his gaze to Master Hand. "Sir?"

"Thank you, Maxwell. You are dismissed." As the Mii began his exit, Master Hand continued, "On your own time, you two will need to stop by our physicians to receive the proper inoculations, as well as log your physical conditions prior to the beginning of the Tournament. Our menu has expanded a great deal since your last attendance, and some people have…delicate digestive systems. This should alleviate a lot of future problems. Do you have any questions?"

Nana found herself immediately standing, which had startled Popo with the sudden movement.

"Yeah, actually; why were we," a gesture to indicate her and Popo, "able to watch the last tournament when we were not invited?"

The second sight of Master Hand being put off-kilter was quite rewarding, but she would have enjoyed it a lot more if his response was…malicious. Like he had orchestrated some grand conspiracy to show that Nana and Popo weren't welcome, and that the Smash Brothers Tournament would chug along just fine without them (even though it really had). His confused demeanor took the wind right out of her sail, and with it, any righteous anger she planned to supplement her words with. Still, her glare remained fixed in place, and she peripherally registered Maxwell's quick return to his superior's side.

Master Hand, sharing a glance—or what Nana _thought_ was a glance—with his assistant, appeared to regain his composure with a small sigh. "I am afraid I do not really have any explanation, because this, and the timeframe you were apparently provided, totals now _two_ unknown oversights that require investigation. And those two oversights may quite suddenly become fourteen. Can you tell me, as well as you can remember, just what happened when the broadcast aired in your region? It would help us narrow things down quite a bit, and then you can go on your way."

Nana, with Popo adding where necessary, launched into a diatribe to relate their story. She began with how the matchup between Mario and Sonic appeared in the aurora borealis, and described the other shows to their best recollection up to the very last broadcast. Maxwell appeared to be taking diligent notes throughout the explanation. Eventually the two climbers talked themselves out, and they were permitted to leave. Master Hand felt the need to 'compensate' them with additional coins on their Currency Cards, despite protests stating that they really just wanted the problem solved. Nana waited until well after they had exited the Administration Building before confiding in her partner.

"Think they'll really do anything?" she asked, when she was sure no one was listening in.

Popo lightly scratched his cheek as he thought, before nodding. "Master Hand has always been kind of a control freak. If anything shakes his vision of order up, he's going to definitely want to smooth that sorta crap out. I just hope if he does, he'll let us know." A sigh escaped his lips, and he held up his map. "C'mon, I've had enough drama for today. Let's get situated in our room and I can take that nap I've needed since, like, yesterday."

Nana smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I'm tired of lugging this backpack around. Let's head on over."

* * *

Popo didn't need the map to navigate the two of them from the Admin Building to the fabled Smash Mansion; they had pulled a great many pranks and capers over the last couple of tournaments that they were often sent to Master Hand's office, and then confined to quarters as punishment. After so many of these visits, the Ice Climbers could have been blindfolded, spun around in a centrifuge, and still be able to sprint back and forth between the structures. They weren't even the only ones in and out of the office so often; Ness, Toon Link, and sometimes even Lucas were seen high-fiving or fist-bumping Nana and Popo as they waited their turns to be scolded. The years since his last visit here did nothing to diminish his desire to cause more (mostly) harmless mayhem for the grown-ups.

The Mansion itself loomed over them on their approach, its classical architecture a stark contrast to the rest of the very modern structures. The climbers were never quite able to grasp or appreciate the aesthetics of the building as much as Ness, Lucas,or even Snake seemed to. To Nana and Popo, it was just another large, fancy building they called their second home.

A deluge of memories flooded into his mind as they entered the Mansion, Popo paused just inside the large double doors to take in the lobby. It looked like a few renovations had taken place while they were gone. One wall was dominated by a large, marbled desk that had a few Miis floating behind it. The weird beings appeared to be setting up some sort of equipment behind the desk. More were out in the lobby proper, operating floor buffers, standing on ladders to dust off the chandeliers, or doing some other sort of sprucing up activity. Popo paid them no mind, he and Nana heading straight for the grand staircase that would lead them towards the first floor of the Smasher lodgings.

"Hey!" a voice bellowed from behind them. "Where do you two think you're going!?"

Popo froze, wondering if this was all some kind of trick being played on them. When no one jumped out to yell 'GOTCHA', he slowly turned around to face the source of the voice. It was one of the Mii workers, and…she (?)...had an indignant expression on her face. Popo was _not_ going to be intimidated though, not with his much-needed rest on the line. His hands clenched into fists and a defiant look creased his features into a tired glower.

"Uh, we're going to our room. We're _supposed_ to be here." Popo managed to keep his temper down, in spite of the sleep deprivation urging him to behave otherwise. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nana's look of concern. Normally he would provide her some sort of comforting glance, but he dare not take his eyes off of this new, sudden opponent.

"No one is '_supposed_' to be here," the Mii stated after a pregnant pause, placing her hands on what he figured to be her hips. "The tourist season isn't starting for another couple months at least, and no reservations have been made. How did you two even _get_ here!?" Her expression flickered again, this time settling somewhere between shock and rage.

Now, Popo had never considered the two of them to be super-important in the grand scheme of the Smashers. The previous rosters had an intergalactic bounty hunter, a goddess, reincarnations of a powerful hero, royalty, and many others fighting for the entertainment of untold numbers of fans. By contrast, the Ice Climbers led a relatively mundane life, but they _did_ earn their place among this pantheon of fighters. For this Mii to think them to be some lost tourists, though…well, Popo was just plain insulted.

"We were _invited_ by Master Hand to compete here again," he bit out, teeth bared. "We are going to our lodgings, so if you don't mind…"

The Mii's expression changed so quickly, it may as well have been the look she had the whole time; Popo recoiled quite noticeably at the instant transition from angry to cordial.

"Oh, you're Smashers! I do wish you'd started off with that, and I apologize for my behavior." She pressed her hands together in front of her torso, and bowed her head briefly. "However, you're still in the wrong area."

Popo's temper had all but completely boiled over when the Mii continued, her expression shifting over towards one of scrutiny. "I recognize the two of you now; you're the Ice Climbers, aren't you?" She continued without further prompting from Popo; Nana must have nodded instead. "That makes sense, you've been out of the loop since the third tournament."

The Mii pressed on "To keep it simple, Master Hand decided, somewhere between the third and fourth seasons, that the Smash Mansion was no longer a viable option. The logistics behind the maintenance of the building, as well as the idea of keeping heroes _and_ their adversaries under one roof, were not sound. Sometime after he tailored suites for the upcoming fighters, he ultimately made the choice to convert this place into a super-exclusive resort, and house the Smashers in custom standalone homes. Did Master Hand…not inform you of this?"

That question brought Popo up short. Master Hand didn't really have the chance to bring it up; their grievances likely overrode a few key points of the meeting, and while he was certainly powerful, he wasn't _omniscient_. There were many factors, and Popo was too tired and on-the-spot to think of any.

"I see. Well, thank you for clearing it up. We'll get out of your, uh, hair, and see ourselves out," Nana had interjected, before Popo could say anything. It was probably for the best, as a protracted discussion would further delay their plans. His plans, anyway. Popo clenched his jaw shut, and stiffly motioned for Nana to follow him back out of the lobby. Once outside, he dug the map of the area out from his pocket.

"Thanks, Nana. I was about to say something I would have really regretted." He then started to scrutinize the map's features. "Okay, so everything's spread out a lot more since we've been gone. It looks like the Housing District is…hold on," Popo looked over the sides and corners of the map. Sighing when he couldn't find a compass on the map, Popo turned and faced the Mansion to get his bearings. "It looks like it's to the…northeast, if this thing is at all accurate. Up in…those hills." He pointed in the direction, after consulting the sun's position for verification. "Looks like a bit of a hike, but we should be able to manage. Let's go."

* * *

This map had no distance legend, and thusly had _no_ sense of scale. At all. An hour after they departed the grounds of the Smash Mansion—no, Smash _Resort_—Popo began to lament not asking the Mii if they could get a ride of some kind to the Housing District. The idea just never occurred to him, and they were both paying the price for it. Some leader _he_ was. At least the paved road they were walking along was the right direction.

Good thing that transportation would be provided for their matches, indicated in the notes of their schedule. If some fighters were made to walk that distance, even just to get some provisions, there was sure to be a riot.

His thoughts were interrupted when a number of low buildings, set behind a tall wrought-iron fence, began to appear at the end of their path. Instinctively, Popo broke out into a jog, his crampons clacking along the concrete. Nana's footsteps were heard picking up the pace as they ran forward to their goal.

Again, the heat caught up with them as they reached the open gate of the Housing District. Popo leaned against a stone column, and Nana was seated on the ground with her back pressed to the other. Both of them were panting heavily and repeatedly wiping sweat from their faces.

"Popo…please…stop...making us run…" Nana's voice rasped out, her head lolling back to rest against the column supporting her back. "We could… we could have just _walked_. The dang house isn't going anywhere…" Her words were scolding in nature, but her voice had notes of amusement strewn throughout.

"I…I know. I think I'm just eager to get…settled in," Popo wheezed out, one hand resting over his pounding heart. Straightening up, he looked in at the fenced-in gathering of homes. The plots of land, despite the houses on them varying wildly in size, were in neat rows. The result was that some Smashers would have much larger yards than others, but with so much to do, it wasn't very likely to matter in the long run; who knew how much time would actually be spent in their residences?

A half hour crept by as they wound down from their impromptu cardio workout, swigs of water downed from the canteens they packed before they left their world. A companionable silence fell over them as they began to wander through the 'neighborhood' of homes to try finding theirs. As they walked, they took turns pointing at some of the first houses and tried to guess at who was living there; the houses seemed to be built to reflect the aesthetics of the world their occupant hailed from. Eventually the same sorts of signage they'd seen at their arrival point started to show up on the lawns, probably to direct the new arrivals such as themselves. Nana quickly spotted their place, and was quick to call out to Popo while he was examining a miniaturized castle in the lot next to theirs.

"Popo! Over here!"

He raised his head to look, and a smile came over his face. A modestly-sized, two-story log cabin was placed on the back half of the lot. The property looked like it was maintained with care, but the fact that it was nestled in the middle of the homes, instead of at the end, raised some questions. His ruminations were short-lived, however, as he ambled up to the porch where Nana was patiently waiting for him. He was pleased to see there was only one door. Next to the doorknob was a metal panel that looked incredibly out of place, but the outline of a hand on its smooth surface quickly dispelled its mystery.

Eagerly, Popo slapped his palm onto the panel and was immediately rewarded with the click of a lock being disengaged. "After you, Nana," he said, gesturing for her to open the door. Nana's hand hovered over the doorknob for a long beat before she turned to him with a sly smirk.

"I appreciate your sense of chivalry, my Dear," Nana began, shrugging off her backpack. "But I think you need one more challenge before I let you sleep." She closed the already short distance between them, resting her forehead to his. His heart began to pound again, and he couldn't help shifting his eyes to look towards the street they came from; physical displays in public he hadn't quite gotten the hang of, even though everyone in the village—and maybe some of their peers in Smash—already knew of their involvement.

"A-and that is…?"

"I want you to _carry_ me in." The small giggle that punctuated her request was more than enough to make Popo's face glow red. He hadn't realized that she undid the straps of his backpack until it thumped onto the porch, the sound from it landing on the wooden surface as loud in his mind as one of Snakes incendiaries. Still, he smiled and his eyes set in a determined manner, and he scooped Nana easily into his arms.

She laughed the whole way, lightly kicking her legs as they crossed the threshold together.

The sight that greeted them was…familiar, but not _too _familiar. He couldn't really put a word to the feeling.

As Popo gently set Nana down, he simply…stared. Everything had hints of home, from the curtains and shutters to the chairs and couch near one corner. Between those sat a low table, and from where he stood, Popo could see the cards that Master Hand was talking about earlier. A doorway opened into a modest kitchen, with the appropriate fixtures such as a sink, an oven with a stovetop, some _nice_ granite countertops, and their old refrigerator from when they still lived in the Smash Mansion. If not for a microwave oven, the granite, and the lights set in cylindrical recesses in the ceiling, Popo would have thought the feast hall kitchen was scaled down to fit in their duplex back in Murasat.

Speaking of their Murasat home…

Popo was pleased to see that this place wasn't divided up into two separate sections. Not that their room in the Mansion was like that, but they spent a long time being told to live somewhat apart; to be out from under that command was…liberating.

Popo eventually ascended the sturdy stairway to the second floor of the residence, and only saw a few rooms. There was a large bathroom with all sorts of amenities that he never even thought of. The wooden flooring was lacquered heavily—to prevent water damage, he surmised—and there were bath mats all over the place. In front of the large bathtub/shower combination, one in front of the toilet, and a long one in front of a large counter that had two sinks set into the white marbled surface. The mirror on the wall of the sinks ran the entire length of the counter. Popo tried the light switches, and found the gradual increase in light levels pleasing. A late-night trip wouldn't sear his eyes with sudden, blinding beams.

He looked forward to them having their own bathroom. The ones in the Mansion were communal affairs, and when you shared facilities with _Wario_… Well, Popo didn't have to think about that anymore.

His foray into one of the other rooms was rather underwhelming. Barely larger than the bathroom, one end was dominated by the computer he remembered fumbling with during the other two tournaments; he only knew enough to receive the messages and sort through them. It wouldn't hurt to learn, but they just never got around to it. There were two chairs, and a small couch was resting along one wall. A brief examination showed it was a pull-out bed too. Maybe they could have sleepovers like they did in the past…

Popo's musings were disrupted when he heard Nana's voice drifting from the bedroom.

"Son of a…Popo, take a look at this!"

"Coming!" he called back, wondering just what made her sound so strange. She was leaning against the door frame, which forced him to sidle around her to see what the fuss was about.

Well, there was his answer.

The décor of the bedroom, innocuous in design, brought back his previous blush, and a slew of questions along with it. There was two of everything that he could see, for the most part. Two wardrobes, two racks for their mallets, two nightstands, two lamps on said nightstands, two pairs of slippers on the floor, two low tables lining the walls, and two pillows.

Two pillows that were neatly placed upon the one large bed in the center of the room.

Popo gulped loudly. Okay, so maybe they fooled less people than they'd thought, but Popo remembered Master Hand at one point trying to forbid romantic involvement among the Smashers…did he give up on that, or was Popo misremembering? He shook his head, and ran his fingers through his unruly hair. Yeah, there were a lot of times where they slept in one another's arms, but most of those times were for survival purposes. They were imparting body heat to one another, and were separated by layers of winter clothing for the duration.

"You know, Popo," Nana began, her hand lightly rubbing at his shoulder. "We spent so much time planning out how to bring up taking down the duplex wall to Harasen, and we get nervous just by looking at a single bed." Her hand was trembling on his shoulder now, and he happily placed his own shaking appendage over hers.

"Hey, if anything, we have plenty of time to get used to this. Worst-case, I can always take the couch for a bit…" Popo began to laugh, but was cut short when he found himself forcibly turned around, to face a mock-glare from Nana.

"Nope!" she began with cheerful gusto. "Practice starts right now. We're tired from walking all day and smelly from sweating all day. We will take a couple of showers, and then we will sleep until we feel like moving around again." She wrinkled her nose playfully. "As the current Lead Climber, you get to go first. So…get goin', Stinky!"

"Yes, Ma'am!" Popo sketched a quick salute and smiled, before running off to do as Nana commanded.

He was fast to scamper down the stairs, and retrieve their backpacks from the front porch. The least he could do, he figured, was bring them up to the bedroom so maybe Nana could unpack hers while he cleaned up. Rummaging through his backpack for some clean clothes, Popo would absentmindedly respond to Nana's discoveries in the main living room; a fireplace that appeared to not need wood, and a large television that was recessed behind a panel of some kind. He recalled there being a lot of downtime when they were last here. Those amenities would probably see a lot of use, but that would remain to be seen.

Suitable sleep clothes in hand, Popo returned to the spacious bathroom. It didn't take long to actually wash himself off; the _real_ time-waster in the whole affair was remembering how to operate a shower. The push-button shower back in the Mansion was a simple operation, but one had to keep holding the button down because the water only ran for like 15 seconds at a time. This setup was a lot different, with the knobs and the thing to pull up to divert the water and an apparently removable showerhead. But he ultimately finished his ablutions, dried off with one of the provided fluffy towels, and redressed in his sleepwear.

Popo suddenly felt drained and so, so heavy. He didn't even remember calling out to Nana, to let her know the shower was free, before he found himself in the bedroom once more. The mountain was conquered, and his goal lay before him. He should have waited for Nana, but the siren's song of the pillow was far too strong, and he didn't even register sliding beneath the covers; one moment he was standing, and the other his head was descending towards the pillow.

When sleep claimed him, Popo completely forgot about his misgivings with the sleeping arrangements.

* * *

_Author's Notes: (09/12/2019) Man, this was a big one for me. I thought maybe I could get this split into two chapters, but none of the scene breaks felt right to end it on. Hopefully I can tone down some of the more melodramatic parts now that they've arrived and Popo finally gets his sleep (I really relate to that, these days, but I hope I don't make it an overarching theme). Once again, I'd like to give thanks for the views and reviews, and the favs/follows!_

_I also need to figure out pacing issues, if the second wave of fighters is to make it into this story..._


	5. Chapter 5

An indeterminable number of hours later, Popo's eyes fluttered open.

It was well into nighttime, or maybe just into it. He honestly had no way of knowing, unless he actually got out of bed and looked outside. That was _not_ happening, so he decided to just guess at it instead. The room was dark. Check. There was a soft, pale light—he assumed moonlight—coming in through a window, so at least his eyes were adjusting, but where was the window? Sure, Popo could sit up and look around, but he just plain didn't want to, instead rolling his eyes upwards and tilting his head back to cover the rest of the effort. Ah, the window was _behind_ the bed. Check. Well, 'check' as far as making sure he wasn't still in his home; his window was to the right of the bed, back at the duplex.

Speaking of the bed, Popo never recalled ever sleeping in anything so _comfortable_ in his entire life! The beds they were issued back in the Smash Mansion days weren't exactly chintzy affairs, but this was something on an entirely different level. He sank into it, but only just enough to feel like he was being held. The tangled blanket covering him provided noticeable, but not overbearing, warmth. Even the pillow seemed to play an integral part, in the way it supported his head and molded itself to adjust for movement.

The evidence was piling up: It was definitely time to put this whole 'I'm just dreaming' nonsense to rest.

Just as soon as he got a drink of water for his dry throat and put _himself_ back to rest.

Popo started to sit up to do just that, but found himself immediately pulled right back down with a strangled yelp of surprise. Only now did he realize there was a weight on his torso, and it couldn't be attributed to _just_ the blanket. Gingerly, he lifted the covers to take a peek, confirming a sudden suspicion.

Yep. There was Nana, very much wrapped around him. A smile broke out over his suddenly scarlet face, as he recalled the sleeping arrangements that brought on this situation. Were the Hands aware of this setup, or did a contractor get lazy or cheap with the accoutrements? Well, he wasn't going to bring this up; hopefully Nana wouldn't either.

Popo let a good ten to twenty minutes (maybe a full hour; he didn't know or care, really) pass before he tried, once again, to extricate himself—gently, this time—from Nana's grasp. But her limbs cinched even more tightly around him. A brief pout crossed her sleeping face, before she adjusted her position to press it into the side of his neck, mumbling incoherently.

His arm awkwardly pinned beneath her, Popo could only lightly stroke her hair until her soothing warmth and steady heartbeat pulled him back into a deep slumber, parched throat forgotten.

When Popo next awoke, sunlight illuminated the room, and Nana was gone. With a small groan, he swatted at the mattress beside him as if the action could summon her presence back. While one part of his brain assured him that there would be plenty more nights like that to come, he couldn't quite suppress the pangs of disappointment coming from other parts of his brain.

What was _wrong_ with him? He had no reason to be acting like this whatsoever. He needed to eat…Breakfast always helped with these bouts of quasi-moping.

What time was it, anyway…?

Mentally, he added purchase of a bedside clock to his internal checklist, as he got out of bed with a stretch. Various joints answered with a satisfying pop before he headed to the bathroom to wash his face and quench his parched throat. He took a minute or so to rake his fingers through bedraggled locks, using water to smooth down some of the more stubborn strands until he felt 'good enough' status was obtained. Once he felt presentable enough, Popo set out in search of his partner.

It wouldn't be a long search; the cabin only had a few rooms, and Popo already cleared two of them. A brief glance into the room with the computer turned up nothing, so he headed for the stairs. His ears began to pick up faint sounds coming from the living room as he descended, so he decided to look there first.

Nana lay prone on the couch, clad in what looked like a long T-shirt that probably hung to her knees when standing. Though in her current position, it didn't seem anywhere near that length. Her head was turned towards the television set, and she was working the remote control with an air of boredom. Channel-surfing, if Popo remembered the term right; she didn't seem to be giving any of the channels a chance to engage her. Of course, he wasn't engaged by them either, as his eyes were drawn to, well, Nana.

Biting the inside of his cheek nearly hard enough to draw blood, he lightly knocked on the wall to announce his presence.

"Mornin'! What time is it?" He didn't appreciate the way his voice cracked on the first word, but achieved minor victory in suppressing the heat rising to his face. Mostly.

Not seeming to notice his distress, Nana pressed a button on the remote, and a timestamp appeared on the screen. "It's uh, Nine-fifty two in the morning. You've ah…been out for a while."

Popo scratched at his side, grimacing at this information. "Man, that's almost an entire day. We got in at sunrise, and it took us…what, five, six hours to make it here after all that contract work?" He plopped into a chair, putting his feet up on the table. "At least I feel a lot better. I think I was about to start hitting people if the nonsense we put up with dragged on for much longer…"

Nana burst out laughing at that, rolling onto her back to sit up. "Only hit them? You were ready to _strangle_ that Mii in the old Mansion! I don't think I've ever seen you get that mad before, especially outside of a fight."

Popo smiled sheepishly, and was about to reply when a loud rumbling in his stomach interrupted him. Nana had started to laugh again when the same thing happened to her.

"So, I take it there's no food stocked here for us," He said, eyeing the cards that were still sitting on the table.

"No, that's sort of what I was hoping we could figure out when you got up. Maybe there's a place we can test out our Meal Cards on?" Nana stood up, and headed for the stairs. "Can't go out looking like this, though. I hope I packed something to deal with the heat better…"

"Where did you even get that shirt, anyway? Don't think I ever saw it back home." Popo scratched his head at the sight of it. The eggplant printed on the front of the garment showed it was definitely one of theirs, but he was drawing a blank as to where it came from.

"Oh this?" She looked down and smoothed out a couple wrinkles in the fabric. "Yeah, even in the mild season it never got warm enough to sleep in. As for how I got it," Nana's face broke out in a sly grin. "I swiped it from a merchandise stall after the last tournament we were in. They were just gonna wind up in storage, so I figured I'd help myself to a souvenir!"

He leaned back at this, eyebrows comically raised. "Nana, I'm _surprised_ at you," Popo began with all of the authority he could muster up as the freshly-awakened Lead Climber, arms folded across his chest. "Stealing from a merchant—"

Her face began to fall.

"—without getting anything for me," he finished with a grin.

"What!" Nana's gaze snapped back up, open shock on her face. In a flash, she was looming over Popo's seated form, delivering a barrage of (relatively) ineffective swats to his arms and shoulders. "Don't _do_ that!" She started to laugh, and he joined in while curling up defensively. Being considered the more 'responsible' of the two of them afforded a few concessions; pranks and one-liners from him tended to really blindside people, though back home he _really_ had to space his capers apart.

After a while, the pummeling ceased, and Nana went upstairs to change into something a bit more suitable for public. Popo, meanwhile, had turned the TV off and started looking at a few informational placards that were placed in strategic locations throughout their home. Trash pickup schedule, laundry services, meal delivery that was yet to be implemented (drat), and quiet hours comprised most of the information.

Fortunately, a placard on the inside of the front door indicated there were a number of shopping districts, listed on their nigh-useless map; two of them were barred to all Smashers until after Opening Ceremonies. Still, the closest one available to them looked promising in the form of a large department store that sold basic necessities and boasted no closing time, with a couple of restaurants. A bit further out from that district was the Medical Center they would have to visit anyway, so Popo filed that information away.

Before long, Nana exited the stairway dressed in a plain teal sleeveless shirt, a simple pair of loose black shorts, and black sandals; no doubt holdovers from their last trip here. "Alright, your turn," she mumbled around a couple hair ties between her teeth while parting her hair for styling with a brush in her right hand and a comb in her left. Her hair-taming rituals sometimes left the girl…rather terse, so Popo quickly nodded and retreated to their bedroom to rummage through his backpack.

Or he would, if Nana hadn't already unpacked it and sorted his things in the wardrobe. He appreciated her thoughtfulness, while selecting an outfit for the day. After some thought, Popo settled for a blue T-shirt, some shorts with a black and gray mottled pattern—something he'd seen Snake wear in matches from time to time—and simple black shoes. He sighed, after struggling to fasten the shorts; he either grew up or got a lot lazier than he thought over the years. The Guardian training probably had something to do with that. Maybe the extra money Master Hand compensated them with would have some use after all...

Stepping back downstairs, he was relieved to see Nana had finished with her hair, settling with low pigtails for the day. She'd utilized a variety of hairstyles over the years, and he loved when she deigned to let him help out. Popo's ability in hairstyles admittedly wasn't the best, but practice soon rendered his 'stupid fingers' into something between 'not bad' and 'decent'. It was a pretty obvious ruse to get a chance to play with her hair, really; there were plenty of times where she'd have to tell him to focus, but she never _seemed_ annoyed about it.

Bringing his reverie to a close, Popo then gestured towards the front door placard with a triumphant smile.

"Looks like we have a place to eat and shop not too far from here. Plus we can knock out that doctor's visit Master Hand talked about yesterday. Whatcha think?"

"Sounds good," Nana answered with a smile, standing up and knuckling her lower back with a series of cracks. "Ready when you are!"

With a determined nod, Popo wasted no time in opening the door to step outside—

—Sending his forehead straight into a raised fist.

"Urgh!" Popo's head snapped back from the impact. It wasn't a hard strike, but he had stepped _into_ it, which did him no favors; being completely unprepared to receive the hit probably also didn't help. He was also nailed while in the middle of his stride, and thusly tried to balance on one foot while his arms windmilled in an attempt to stay vertical. Eventually one hand found the wall beside the door, and he leaned on it to keep from toppling over.

"Popo? What's happening?" Nana's voice called out. She was right on his heels and had all but walked up his back when he was suddenly halted. She must have caught on to the cause of the disturbance, though, because her voice immediately shifted from concern to something between exasperation and outrage. "Oh, what the hell is everyone's _problem_ around here!?"

"HOLY CRAP GODDANG—I'M _SO_ SORRY!" A familiar voice cried out, though Popo still couldn't quite make out his assailant as his eyes were still adjusting to the sunlight pouring in through the open door. A quick shake of the head brought on a minor ache, but at least his vision cleared enough to make out a striped shirt and red ball cap.

"…Ness? This how you greet people around here these days?" Popo grumbled, having half a mind to move aside and let Nana _personally_ deal with the psychic boy. Instead, he waved her down and waited for an explanation.

"No! I…I was just knocking on the door when you opened it and put your face there." Ness then raised his hands, palms outward. Either he or Nana must have been scowling (it was both, actually). "I swear it! Besides, why would I sucker-punch you here when I could do it just as easily in a match?" There was a wry hint to his voice, and a grin broke out over his face.

Popo, dropping the glare, smirked at that, before looking over his shoulder to talk to Nana. "You hear that, Nana? Ness here's trying to call us out…What should we do about it?"

Nana had a matching grin at that news, her eyes narrowing in an exaggerated manner that was comical to Popo, but the smile upon their friend's face immediately vanished. With good reason too; Nana suddenly bellowed "LET'S GET HIM," and they pounced as one. Popo crouched low and surged forward, while Nana leapt over both him _and_ Ness, pivoting as she landed behind their target. As soon as she cleared both of their heads, Popo straightened up mid-charge and they both enveloped him in dual, iron-clad hugs.

"H-hey!" Ness struggled in their hold for a moment, until he seemed to realize they weren't trying to squeeze the life out of him. Eventually, he awkwardly returned their embrace (he could only pat their arms) and they released him.

"It's great to see you again, Ness!" Popo exclaimed, rubbing his forehead with a faint smile. "Your hand, not so much, though. You been hanging around that Little Mac guy?"

Sheepishly, Ness looked at his hand, rubbing the back of his head with the other. "I…wait, you're not gonna let me live this down, are you?" At Popo's shake of the head, he pouted. "Look, I'll buy you breakfast or something if you drop the whole thing…"

Nana spoke up then, clapping Ness on the back. "Nah, don't worry about it. Popo's been in a weird mood since he got up. Master Hand gave us some extra spending cash anyway, and we were heading out to take care of some errands. You wanna come along?"

Ness, perking up, nodded excitedly. "Yeah, that's why I came to knock on Popo's face actually; I saw you guys moved back in, and was hoping to show you around since you skipped out last tournament."

Popo and Nana both exchanged a curious glance, before the former spoke up with a grimace.

"Yeah, about that…" Popo began.

* * *

"So wait, lemme get this straight," Ness rubbed at his temples while they walked towards the Medical Center. Popo seemed particularly intent on getting their vaccinations and physicals out of the way, so they made that place the first destination. On the way, both of the Climbers had taken turns in explaining parts of their story to the psychic, and Ness had a lot of difficulty parsing this information. "You're telling me they didn't invite you guys, showed your world the matches partway through the season anyway, and Master Hand didn't even know about it? And when they _did_ invite you back, you had a really small window to accept it and get here?"

"Yeah, that's about the short of it," Nana responded, shrugging with one hand. Her other hand was occupied by holding Popo's; they must have finally come to terms about their whole…thing. Ness wasn't one to pry, normally, but these two had gone through a _lot_, relationship-wise.

Ness vividly recalled their time together in the second tournament. They mostly kept to themselves, and didn't talk to damn near _anyone _for a good while; only to Master Hand or each other for that first month or two, but eventually hanging out with himself and the younger Link. But even way back then, there were signs of affection between them; lingering touches on the shoulder, gazes held longer than normal, a whole lot of quick embraces when they thought no one was looking…things that fell outside of familial bonds. Unfortunately, only he and probably Peach knew about this; everyone else was quick to dismiss them as siblings, or simply not care at all. Further stifling from Master Hand's draconic rules against romantic involvement must have made them absolutely miserable.

Ness never did quite understand why those rules were put in place. Common speculation pointed towards two reasons: collusion or performance issues. But these rules didn't affect him personally, so he really didn't care at the time.

At least by the third tournament, the Ice Climbers opened up a lot more to everyone. They were quick to dispel those creepy rumors about them being family, and asserted they were simply friends. But those little—and sometimes big—hints saying otherwise were quick to crop up again. The rules were still in place, however, and for some reason they put a lot of pressure on Nana and Popo during that specific tournament. Ness recalled a time when they suddenly broke out into a horribly flirty exchange when they were relaxing by the Smash Mansion's pool one day with him and Lucas. Such syrupy-sweet dialogue nearly had him at the brink of horking up his lunch, but they had it out of their system before anyone else bore witness to this sickening banter. Lucas didn't seem at all fazed by their words, except maybe a hint of a blush, but he seemed overall content about it. Ness still maintained that they weren't going to become anything more, for some stupid reason that seemed right back then, and Lucas was so dang sure that they would.

Which reminds him: He _totally_ owes Lucas money.

Ness sighed, after mulling over their story a bit. "Well, that's a load of crap. But it explains the other arrivals that came in last night, I think. Bunch of others came in practically on your heels, and I've seen them heading to the Admin Building all morning to get their stuff sorted out; it's possible they got the same treatment you guys did. Anyway, we're here."

The Medical Center was a squat, but sprawling structure. Viewed from above, it formed a sort of large rectangle with one side removed, or maybe a square letter 'C'. In the center courtyard was a statue depicting one of Dr. Mario's capsules. To drive home the point of the building, there was a red cross above the main entrance, which would be lit by hidden spotlights in the evening. Ness led them in through the main entrance, through a comfortable-looking waiting room, and up to a stately desk.

The Mii at the desk coolly regarded the trio as they drew near. Ness couldn't tell if she was bored or putting on a front of detached professionalism, but the psychic was calm in his approach. "Hey hey hey, I got a couple here who need to get their med stuff checked out." He remained indifferent to their stereo huffs of exasperation, at the mention of the word 'couple'. So maybe they were still figuring some things out with their relationship. Maybe they were trying to keep a low profile, but that didn't explain the handholding. Maybe they didn't want to be obnoxious about it? They couldn't even be the most annoying couple if they _tried_; once the 'Dates Mandates' were lifted, Mario and Peach almost immediately took top billing in that department.

The Mii didn't seem to pay any mind to the verbal jabs of Ness, nor did she seem to care about the reactions of the two standing nervously behind him. She simply held out two tablets, one in each hand, and stated in a bored monotone: "Palms, please."

Nana and Popo quickly acquiesced, and the Mii instructed them to wait for the doctors. Ness took up a chair by one of the low tables, and immediately grabbed one of the magazines for perusal. Some sort of sports publication from Fox's universe, if the cover was any indication. After a minute of dumbly standing there, the duo eventually settled down on a bench and...actually twiddled their thumbs while they stared at the floor.

The group waited in awkward silence before two doors flanking the reception desk hissed open, and two tall, white-bodied Miis floated outward. One was designed to look male, and had short black hair over a stern expression which sported rectangular black glasses. The other was a female model, and had long black hair with straight bangs which almost looked like a nun's habit. Her expression was no less stern, but the rounder glasses she sported somehow lessened the impact.

"Popo and Nana," the receptionist drawled, putting an odd overemphasis on the 'P' and 'N' sounds. "The doctors will see to you now. Popo, you are to go with Thaddeus," she gestured to the male Mii. "And Nana, you are to accompany Serena." She then indicated the female Mii.

The two climbers exchanged a worried glance, but when they saw Ness' easygoing smile, they got up and left with their respective staff members. Ness figured they didn't have this sort of thing back home, so he decided to not give them crap about it. On a similar note, maybe he should tone down the jabs at their…dating? Involvement? Whatever.

Time seemed to stop while he waited. This magazine kind of sucked, but it was his only real form of entertainment until those two got back. After a few articles, though, the words blurred together and eventually his mind wandered off. He'd just started to think about calling Paula later on when his thoughts were interrupted by high-pitched shrieking coming from beyond the door Nana had disappeared through.

"AHH! COLD, COLD! YOU KEEP THOSE COLD HANDS OFF OF—_EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!_"

Ness tugged the bill of his cap down over his eyes, raising the magazine to hide his reddening face. As he tried to tune out the yelling, as well as the follow-up cacophony of things breaking, he was suddenly grateful no other Smashers were in the lobby to hear this.

* * *

Nana sighed for what felt like the hundredth time as everyone tore into their breakfast. It wasn't for the two boys shoveling so much food into their maws—Popo more so, since his voracious appetite seemed to have gained a sense of determination since their inoculations—but that neither of them seemed to be able to look her in the eyes for more than a few seconds. Popo would look up as if observing a bird, and Ness would shift his focus slightly off to the side. The latter's face constantly going into a carefully blank, but reddened, expression made her wonder just what the two were thinking about.

She could pursue that thread later.

"So Ness," Nana began after washing a mouthful of pancakes down with a swig of milk. "Anyone in particular we should be worried about?" Getting some insider information about all the people they never had a chance to fight weighed heavily on her mind since she woke up. Well, _after_ she extricated herself from Popo's grasp this morning.

Reflecting on _that_ little aspect of the previous night was well-trodden ground while she waited for him to come downstairs, made confusing by not knowing who initiated contact; Popo had passed out taking up one edge of the bed, and Nana—almost primly—took up the other edge. To wake up in the middle, like _that_…well, maybe it just spoke of their often-ignored needs. She liked the sound of that, but what she_ really_ wanted to know was how they managed to cross the distance without at least one of them waking up to do so. It was a sound question, given the sheer size of the comfortable piece of furniture; the image of the two of them flopping around like beached seals to seek out one another in the middle of the night caused a fit of laughter while she flipped through the stations. Another question was how her burning face, pressed into his neck like that, didn't wake the boy up, let alone not singe his skin.

"Oh, you guys have _plenty_ of folks to watch out for!"

His words jolted Nana back into focus.

Ness seemed more than eager to give his analysis, his face lighting up at the prospect. "First of all, there's yours truly. I am _quite_ the force of nature out there." He leaned away from Popo's halfhearted attempt to smack him. "But to be honest, the big fish out there is probably gonna be Bayonetta again if they let her back in. She has this sort of…uh…she has a tendency to really get under a person's skin, so watch out for her kicks _and_ her sass."

Ness took another bite before he continued, speaking around a mouthful of eggs. "A few things changed since your last time here. They tweaked…something that will no longer let you do the grappling feats you and Dedede were able to pull off, so you need to be careful about that." He scratched his chin lightly, looking to the sky as he thought. "On another note, you guys really, _really_ need to watch out for Cloud. That big ol' sword of his has a lot of power behind it; Dedede got _super _lucky when they last fought. Shulk also has an insane range with that…beam…sword…thing of his; sometimes it just reaches halfway across the dang stage. Then there are the usual threats in the form of…well, the people we all dealt with in your first and second times."

Nana nodded while she absorbed the information, silently finishing her food and drink. It sounded daunting, but she was looking forward to getting into the arena with a lot of these fighters. Speaking of King Dedede…

"Hey, Ness," she asked. "Since the Mansion's some fancy-pants resort now, what did they do with the old conference rooms we used?"

Ness smirked after finishing his own meal, chugging down a tall glass of orange juice. "They have a bunch of rooms set aside in the arenas, near the training area. Whatcha got in mind?"

"Oh, you know _exactly_ what's on her mind," Popo interjected, content to sip at his glass of milk. "But to indulge you, I think she's talking about the fate of the Mallet Club. Been on my mind too."

"It's not looking good, if you want my opinion." Ness's features turned serious again. "Dedede did his best to keep it together, but most of the swordies formed the Band of Blades and hardly anyone was able to touch them in the large-group matches. I think having you guys back in action would give the Club the kick in the pants it's needed for years though." Ness sighed, idly levitating his fork. "Kind of surprised Master Hand allowed for that sort of collusion, but I guess it's always been a thing. Crazy Hand is probably the one who really pushed for it to be so…_open_ these days, I'll bet. Probably thinks the drama is good for ratings or something."

Ness then waved a Mii over, offering his Meal Card and then his Currency Card to cover the extra food. Popo did the same, but Nana's serving was covered by just the Meal Card. "Let's get out of here. You guys mentioned shopping, right?"

* * *

By the time the shopping was finished, it was late afternoon. Their purchase—way too much to carry, even split three ways—would be delivered around sunset. With nothing else to do but wait for the parcels, the trio decided to head back to Nana and Popo's home after stopping by a different eatery for a to-go meal. Ness was quite a ways ahead, while Popo and Nana ambled along, munching on some greasy fries from their bags. The burgers could wait in theory, but Popo was _really_ looking forward to tearing into his; it had been years since his last one, and he needed this fix in a bad way.

It would also work wonders to take his mind off of a series of incidents during their shopping trip. After roaming the aisles in the grocery side of the store for supplies, Nana decided they should replace their old clothes. He didn't even have a chance to agree before she all but dragged him away from Ness, who opted to hang around the magazine rack until they got back. Popo, for his part, was efficient in his selection and making sure things fit properly. Pants, shorts, and shirts; a simple task, once he figured out the sizing conventions. The _real_ challenge was in Nana's portion of the clothes shopping. She decided—without warning him, mind you—to make him wait outside the changing rooms and _show_ him the outfits she had put together. He certainly hoped she didn't catch the way he all but leered at some of the ensembles, but he doubted that; Nana observed a lot more than people—even from her own damn village—gave her credit for. Popo was going to have to really prepare for her teasing comments later on.

"Hey, what's going on back there? Step it up, slowpokes!" Ness jeered from ahead, turning around to face them while walking backwards. "Your food's gonna get cold if you keep shuffling like that! You may as well hit it with your blizzard attack now and put it out of its misery!"

"The Mii said that the foil will keep the burgers warm for at least an hour! We'll be fine," Popo called back, shaking his fist after depositing another fry into his mouth. "What's your rush anyway? If you wanted stuff done fast, then you should know better than to hang out with us!"

"Yeah! What he said," Nana ahouted before she shoved a fistful of fries into her mouth.

Ness eventually stopped walking long enough for them to catch up. Once they did, he fell into step between them, arms across both their shoulders. "Listen, listen…I've been thinking about the project we've all been assigned for our custom entrances, and I think I have the perfect material for you guys to study while you figure out yours."

"Oh yeah, he _did_ mention that. What's the deal with it, anyway? I thought the condor would bring us to the stage like normal…" Popo mused. He wasn't a big fan of such a change, but ultimately, it wasn't up to them.

"Oh, we're all gonna have our regular entrances for most of the matches, I heard, but he wants a sort of parade for Opening Ceremonies, which means a whole mess of flashy moves to wow the crowd. The nice thing is that everyone's should be unique, so you two should have no worries about people copying yours!" Ness's energy seemed to be rising with each passing word, all but shaking with excitement.

Popo leaned back as they walked, catching Nana's eye over the PSI user's head. She raised an eyebrow in response, and Popo could only shrug a bit with his outside arm. Another silent exchange went between them, and they gently clasped hands behind Ness while they pressed on.

It wasn't long before the familiar fence surrounding the Housing District popped in on the horizon. As they strolled through the neighborhood, Nana pointed out that a few of the signs were taken down, to show a Smasher had moved into their corresponding home. One house looked similar to theirs, a simple wooden cabin, and another looked like a house was built into the branches of a tree. Ness pointed out another house, noticing it looked 'modern' in the sense that it was similar to his and Lucas's, but he couldn't recognize the style of the architecture.

After activating the palm reader, Popo opened the door to their home, only for Ness to quickly push past him and make a beeline for the couch. Popo was _just_ about to give the other boy a piece of his mind before Nana put a calming hand on his shoulder, putting an effective stop to a dressing down. Instead, he chose to sit down in one of the chairs, and unwrap his much-awaited prizes.

Nana gracelessly bumped his head with her hip, a rather blatant signal for him to scoot over and make room on that same chair. Not that Ness noticed, with his preoccupation with trying to find the channel he was looking for. Or maybe he did notice, with those mind abilities of his. Acquiescing to Nana's request, Popo found himself staring with no small amount of scrutiny at Ness. How deep did those PSI powers run, anyway…?

Never mind that. There were more important things to address, like finally digging into his burgers. The cravings were so strong; he just _had_ to have two of them. After removing the foil of the first sandwich and marveling at the scent, Popo took the biggest bite he could handle, shuddering with pleasure as he took in the blend of flavors. He was going to savor this meal for as long as he could; only paying attention to the brief snippets of audio that came through while Ness was channel-surfing.

"—_could you imagine someone showing up on this beach wearing a fundoshi—"_

"—_Pacifica. Me and Mabel met her over the summ—"_

"—_like all the best spectator sports, you only watch because someone might get killed—"_

"—_Looks like we're gonna have to juuuuump—"_

"—_b__ought the Turkish owl! Hurrah—"_

"—_Welcome to Grenadier Gordon's Grenade Emporium—"_

"—_Neeeeever had to knock on wood, but I know someone who—"_

"—_My response will not take any longer than ten minutes because that is the YouTube limit—"_

"—_into this video, we're gonna tackle the dark side of the forest—"_

"—_it'll be a teeeeaaaam effort. Yep. Just leave it to me—"_

"—_Pioneers and patriarchs, patriots and matriarchs, staking out the Promised Land—"_

"—_Once upon a time in the land of Melmond, the splendor of vegetation decayed—"_

"—_There's WAFFLE in 'em!—"_

"—_for me to live up to my family name and face full. Life. Cons—"_

"—_Know what I like to say with donuts?" "What?" "OOOOOOOOO—"_

This went on for some time. The sounds from the different stations began to blend together as Ness's clicking sped up. Popo and Nana could only eat in silence, as the other boy's sounds of frustration began to join in with the segmented audio. His burgers eventually finished, Popo leaned further back into the chair with a soft sigh of contentment.

"You keep eating like that, I'll have you running laps in your parka," Nana teased, reaching over to rub his belly.

"You leave my insulation out of this, woman; how else am I to survive the cold months here?" Popo mumbled, and halfheartedly bat at her hand. He was fully prepared to give into a post-meal torpor; already his eyelids were feeling heavy, the only thing keeping him from slipping _completely_ into slumber was the awkward position the cramped chair left him in. That and the sudden backhanded slap Nana gave to his stomach, effectively knocking the wind out of him.

"Oh, hush. You know the 'winters' here are purely for looks. At worst, we put on a light jacket." She was pointedly ignoring the sleepy glare he threw her way, but at least he was awake now.

"Easy for _you_ to say, Nana," scoffed Ness. He had paused in his remote operations to level a finger at the two of them in a much too dramatic fashion to be taken seriously. "You guys probably bathe in frozen lakes just for fun!"

Popo snorted with a wave of his hand. He supposed it was their fault their friend didn't know much about their world. He just never figured anyone would be interested enough to know about it.

Sitting up with a grunt, Popo shrugged. "I mean, there are times we do things like that to challenge each other, but it's more of a festival or inter-village competition setting. And the water is actually a lose condition for our bigger event; we got this one unstable, floating platform out in the middle of a lake, that representatives from other villages wrestle one another on." He beamed. "Everyone wanted a piece of us, once they saw our matches."

"And not one of them backed down after seeing you guys utterly ragdoll us, huh," Ness mused, starting to slow down his channel-changing. "I think even our people started giving you guys space when you started playing 'Hot Potato' with guys as big as Bowser."

Nana made a dismissive sound. "We shoulda had that respect sooner, but oh well. We'll just have to beat it out of them again if we have to." She changed the subject, gesturing towards the TV. "So what's this thing you wanted us to see anyway?

"Oh, it's a pro wrestling show." Ness scratched his head a bit before continuing. "Right now, it's _huge_ where I come from—everyone in school had shirts from various 'superstars', but I never got into it. Also a cop once threatened me with a move from it, after I beat the shi—Hey, finally!" The channel surfing ceased, and Popo found himself intrigued by the…sheer _spectacle_ playing out on the screen. There was loud music, flashing lights, excited announcers, and a _very_ lively crowd. It didn't look too far removed from the Smash Brothers tournament, really.

Ness pointed at the action on the screen, in which two muscle-bound men were grappling, striking, and throwing each other in and around a square, raised platform surrounded by ropes. "See, Master Hand wants us to use Little Mac's boxing ring for Opening Ceremonies, which isn't much different from what you see here; if you watch how these guys are introduced before their fights, you might get some inspiration!"

Popo was dubious, but also curious. Feeling no other course of action, though, he settled into his chair and began to watch the current match. There was something…hokey about it all, but the crowd really seemed into it. Whenever the camera panned over the audience, there were people on their feet cheering and holding signs and taking pictures. The match eventually ended with one guy jumping onto the other from one of the corner posts, driving his knee into the victim's sternum after a full back flip, and pinning him for a three-count. Okay, Popo had to admit some of this was pretty cool, though he'd be in a lot of trouble if he did such moves during Murasat's festivals.

When they cut to a commercial, which featured something about making phone calls a certain way to save money, Popo spoke up. "So what sort of entrances are some of the others putting together?"

"Oh, some of them are pretty cool actually! I watched Kirby practicing his the other day, and he was pulling all sorts of stunts with that Warp Star of his. Corkscrews, loops, and something called a…an aileron roll; Fox was a real stickler for calling it that, for some reason." Ness raised a finger. "Me, I'm thinking of keeping it simple, but I still gotta figure out some things. But you guys…you've been out for a long time. I think all of the entrances you and the other missing fighters put together should be real elaborate affairs. That should really get the crowd on your side. Hey, it's back on!"

Popo brought his gaze back to the screen, and paid close attention. The announcers mentioned something about a 'tag-team match', sparking his interest; there were quite a few times when Nana and he were referred to by that term. A quick glance to Nana showed she was just as hooked by those words as he was, and they both leaned forward intently. At the edge of his vision, Popo could barely see Ness displaying a proud smile.

The two teams made their elaborate entrances, and the match was on. Nana already started to form some ideas, and she eagerly shared a few suggestions. Popo eventually added his own thoughts to the mix, but when they asked for Ness's opinion, the psychic refused, saying that this entrance should be completely their own. While Popo would have preferred some feedback, he understood the sentiment.

They were briefly interrupted by a knock on the front door, which revealed a Mii delivering two crates containing their shopping order from earlier. Of the two, there was a smaller crate, which was devoted to the new clothing they'd bought, while the larger one held their food and a few other things such as an alarm clock and a few toiletries. Unpacking the crate of food was a simple matter; between the three of them, stocking the cabinets and fridge took no time at all. The clothing crate could be done on their own time, as Popo wasn't quite up to letting Ness potentially root through Nana's new clothes.

Their task completed, the trio reconvened in front of the TV. There were a few more matches remaining on the show, one of them another tag-team bout, but they instead decided to talk about other things while it ran in the background. The conversation flitted from subject to subject, mostly surrounding the upcoming tournament season and any sort of gossip the Climbers had missed out on. With the size of the last roster, turned out there was a _lot_. But eventually, Ness excused himself to use their bathroom before heading home with a hurried, red-faced, almost-no-eye-contact goodbye. Strange…

While Nana got ready for bed (Popo deferred to Nana for first shower rights), he stayed in the living room, deep in thought. While another program from Ness's world ran in the background, the main focus of his ruminations centered on the pieces of their upcoming routine, and how best to assemble and refine them.

The spark of creativity was there; now they had to build a fire with it.

* * *

(10/11/2019) Oh boy, this one took me a while, and I don't know how to feel about it. It's a cromulent chapter, I guess. Maybe. Once again, I want to thank everyone for the views, reviews, the favorites, and the follows! It really means a lot to have somehow found an audience for the proverbial sandcastle that I've been building. Hopefully I'll be able to make/keep things interesting until we get to the official "start" of the tournament proper!


	6. Chapter 6

A few days later would find Popo slouched in front of their computer, grumbling to himself while he browsed through a backlog of messages waiting to be addressed. At least the incessant beeping stopped. There must have been an ongoing issue with Smashers not checking their consoles for missives, but was that annoying alarm really the best way to go about it? Especially in the morning, when the top of the sun wasn't even _beginning_ to peek over the horizon!? He was in the middle of a really nice dream, too, before the aural assault forced him to instinctively lurch out of bed and fall onto his side. Nana, somehow, managed to remain sleeping throughout the ordeal even when he'd torn himself from her loving embrace, only a needy whimper betraying her disturbance.

Cheek propped up by palm, Popo clicked through the messages. A lot of mundane subjects were coming across the screen—most of them detailing new arrivals—and he was focused on simply clearing the inbox so he could go back to bed and maybe resume his dream. Something involving relaxing in front of a roaring hearth with Nana while…what else happened? He couldn't remember now, and it took some effort to not grind his teeth as the memory faded. Checking this machine at the end—or beginning—of the day would need to be added to their daily routine, if the situation was to be avoided from here on out.

Near the end of the list, a message of actual interest popped up. It shed some much-needed light on what to do when showing up for the ring entrance rehearsals. It boiled down to, basically, bring your fighting gear, and speak with the Mii at the Production Crew desk. A device for listening to their theme music would be provided, and one would eventually have use of the stage, ramp, and ring to practice their routine for 30 minutes. Then the next Smasher would get a turn; if there was time in the day, the cycle would loop back to the beginning of the queue. A change of clothes was recommended for when these sessions concluded.

He took a minute to write this information down on some provided stationary, and switched off the contraption. Briefly, he considered unplugging the thing altogether, but decided the action would probably be noticed by someone on high. Best not to make waves, he figured, before heading back to their bedroom.

By the time Popo came back to bed, the cyan display on their bedside clock showed five-thirty in the morning, meaning the computer's alarm woke him up a half-hour ago. He sighed and settled beneath the covers, immediately wriggling over to rest beside Nana. She was curled onto her side, facing away from him. Without a second thought, he wrapped his arms around her middle and contoured his position to hers, before immediately succumbing to sleep.

In the last couple mornings, Popo felt a sense of satisfaction from waking up with Nana still in his arms. Today was no exception, and he hoped he never took it for granted. Unwilling to quite yet face the day, he snuggled closer behind her and drew the blanket up a little higher over them both.

"We'll have to get up sometime…you know that right?" Nana mumbled after a few minutes, breaking the silence.

"Shh…let me dream for just a little bit longer." He whispered in response, gently nuzzling the back of her head. "Today's gonna be a busy one, and I want to just…put it off."

For a moment, all he'd heard from her was a relaxed sigh. "Maybe _this_ is why we lived separately back home. We wouldn't get anything done, if we weren't forced to get up just to see one another."

He laughed quietly, hands finding hers. "Probably, but according to everyone else, we would have populated a whole new village if we were left alone." A smile touched his lips, remembering the speculations. When he and Nana first heard those rumors, their faces would flush while they dashed off to hide somewhere for a few hours. Nowadays, they just kind of laughed it off. A whole village—honestly! Maybe a household, though…

"You should have heard all the talk in the women's half of the bath house, Popo. I had to start bathing at midnight or midday just to avoid all of the 'advice' after people saw us just _holding hands_. I think they've been trying to breed us since our second go-round here." She giggled at that, rolling over partway to meet his eyes.

He could feel the heat rising to his face, just as a thought occurred.

"And you waited until now to tell me?" He responded with a grin.

"You sure didn't need _my_ help to already entertain those thoughts, Love." Nana slipped a hand between them to lightly tap his nose. "Though now that it's just us, I think it's safe to tell you that a few girls said they would make a move on you if I waited too long." There was a sly glint in her eyes, which caused his hold to tighten somewhat out of instinct.

He did _not_ want to be tested this early in the morning; time for evasive maneuvers.

"They, uh…should _know_ I only have eyes for you."

"Didn't even ask 'who'... You're a smart boy, Popo." A broad smirk broke out over her face. "With that answer, I think I might keep 're-population' on the table."

How someone could choke on air, Popo would never be able to answer. But somehow, he managed. He was caught somewhere between coughing and stammering, fortunately having the presence of mind to turn his head to cough into his sleeve.

"When we're ready, of course," Nana continued, before quickly shifting the topic. "Think I'll take care of breakfast this time." With a sudden motion, she deftly slipped from his loosened hold and stood by the bedside, hands on her hips. For a moment, he'd forgotten that it was her day to make breakfast _anyway_. He _also_ forgot she was wearing that shirt again, and seemed to revel in his blatant staring. The smirk turned…devious for a moment, before she twirled around and slowly strode out the bedroom door.

Popo lay motionless for a minute after Nana left. Once he was absolutely sure she was gone, he took deep breaths to slow his heart rate, and he found himself sweating all of a sudden. He let another minute pass before going over to the wardrobe to change out of his sleepwear.

"Dear Sila; It's me, Popo. Please don't let this girl be the end of me…"

* * *

"I think it's a good idea. The sooner we get our routine down, the sooner we can stop worrying about it." Nana was saying while she deftly flipped a pancake, catching it in the pan after performing a flourishing spin. While they had their meal cards, the delivery option for food still wasn't implemented, so in-home cooking it was. Neither of them wanted to leave the house for breakfast anyway; walking would have made them even hungrier, and the ensuing meal would have left them sleepy. And the heat…She didn't know how anyone could stand to actually live in these temperatures! Their only solace would come in the form of cooler months, unless Master Hand was cruel enough to remove the seasons…

"Yeah, plus I'm not a hundred percent sure how well it's gonna sync up with our music. We might have to add on or take out some things to make it work. I guess that's why we're supposed to _rehearse_ it." Popo leaned back in his chair, and propped his feet on the table. Nana was a bit surprised to see him acting so casual, after their little exchange in the bedroom. But that was just the way he was; often quick to regain his composure, and always thinking forward. It was probably going to get him the position of Chief, if he really wanted it.

Not for the first time since they'd arrived, and oftentimes during their life back home, she pondered over the number of lines she might be—no, definitely was—crossing. Flirting was one thing; what _she_ was doing started to drift—okay, _veer_—into more…suggestive territory. And Nana was completely lost as to how she felt about it. She was comfortable with the pace of their relationship; definitely not in any hurry to reach anything people considered 'milestones'. She didn't think Popo was either…at least emotionally. However, it was just so much _fun_ to mess with the boy.

There _were_ drawbacks to poking and prodding her partner, she knew, as she added the finished pancake to the waiting stack and began another. Popo's answers to pranks and teasing tended to equal what he received, which concerned her. Not that he would _hurt_ her, but…she couldn't help but wonder what he would throw her way.

"Breakfast will be ready after I make a few more of these. Can you set the table?" Nana flipped the fresh pancake, barely paying attention to Popo's grunt of affirmation.

A light, but insistent, touch at the small of her back brought everything to a screeching halt.

Nana's breath hitched as the touch was joined by Popo pressing into her back, his warmth juxtaposing itself to the chills running up and down her spine. From the small of her back, his left hand slipped to her waist, and his other hand…was reaching overhead to access a cabinet. Two plates were removed and placed upon the countertop. That task completed, Popo's hands switched positions; the right now on her waist, while the left…reached over to the silverware drawer to remove utensils for the both of them. The process was repeated for their cups, and their napkins.

All this wouldn't be so damn _maddening_ if his breath wasn't constantly blowing in her ears and over the nape of her neck throughout.

Popo's presence finally withdrew, eating implements stacked and balanced neatly in one hand, and Nana could finally _relax_ with some hopefully unnoticed deep breathing. While her composure returned, she could distantly hear the sounds of the table being set. Before she was able to slow her hammering heart to a normal rate, though, the warm presence returned. This time, she seemed to be the absolute center of his attention; she still wasn't sure how to feel about it.

A gentle weight settled on her shoulder, and she (correctly) assumed it was his chin. His smile could be _felt_, as his arm snaked around her, his hand joining hers on the handle of the frying pan.

"You forgot this." His voice betrayed nothing; just an overall casual tone, as if he were discussing the day's schedule. A quick flick of the wrist, and the nearly-burnt pancake was upended in the pan. Nana blinked, and risked a glance at Popo. The utterly innocent countenance he bore nearly made her throw a punch—how dare him! Another blink—which he seemed to be waiting for—and he quickly winked before disengaging and resuming his previous seat at the now-set table, consulting the stationary he brought down from the computer room this morning.

"So I think I might map out the boxing ring area, when we get there," he said easily, writing a few notes down. "If there's a crowd, we could at least…"

Nana's thoughts drowned out Popo's words while she focused on the rest of her task, and consuming their filling meal. All throughout, she couldn't decide if maybe—just _maybe—_they were taking things too far, too fast.

* * *

The gargantuan form of the Primary Arena loomed—no, _presided_—over the other buildings in the immediate area. It stood easily twice as large as the place Popo and Nana competed in during their last stint in this world, and was built differently as well. As they circled around the structure—a task that took them about an uninterrupted half-hour of walking—they noted it was octagonal in shape. The building itself was constructed of a pristine white material neither could identify, with black accents at the corners and wherever else the architect deigned to place them. On all eight sides, the bisected circle logo of the Smash Brothers Tournament was carefully painted in a color that could only be described as 'prismatic'. The final touch came in the form of all of the banners hanging below the company logos; ten on each side of the building. It seemed a bit...repetitive, to simply have the logo on each banner, but who was Popo to question the wisdom of the designer? Eventually their loop around the building came back to the beginning, and they made their way towards the main entrance.

Standing so close to the arena, Popo felt an overwhelming urge to scale it. His eyes were already scanning the edifice for a means to simplify his ascent before a hand suddenly obscured his vision.

"I see that look and am vetoing the motion. Don't mount the building." Nana stated with an authoritative tone, which caused Popo to chuckle sheepishly.

"Yeah, yeah…I can't help it sometimes! Sometimes you just wanna climb something and assert dominance. Don't you feel it, Nana?" He poured as much dramatic flair into his little spiel as he could, adding in a gesture of importance which encompassed the grandeur of the structure.

"What I _feel_ is that it's nowhere near even a tenth of Icicle Mountain's height. But for something that was manually built, it's an impressive thing. Maybe if another Smasher steals our food and hides it up there, we can climb it." Nana giggled softly, shifting her backpack into a more comfortable position.

"Yeah…you're right. I kinda miss the activity though," Popo mumbled as they stepped out of the sunlight and into the lobby of the arena. It was an equally grandiose, if currently empty, affair. Velvet rope barriers were _everywhere_, leading up to counters for all sorts of different uses. Stairs and elevators were likewise prominent features, connecting a great many floors together. The new crowds must be massive in order to require _this_ level of infrastructure to suit their needs.

In stark contrast to the order of the lobby, a crude path consisting of water-absorbent rain mats, placed in a somewhat straight line, led from the main entrance towards one of the many grand archways that opened out into the arena proper. There was also a sloppily-made handwritten sign, on a piece of paper, which simply said 'REHEARSALS' with an arrow pointing in the same direction as the mats were laid out. It was taped to the back of a chair.

A glance and a shrug were shared between the two, and they tromped off towards the ring.

Just inside the archway, off to the right and behind a folding table, a Mii sat. Almost languidly, he raised his hand to stop their advance, fumbling for a clipboard with the other.

"Hey, whoa, hold up there you two. You folks here for practice, I take it?" At Nana's confident nod, he started leafing through the pages on the clipboard, mumbling to himself. "Alright, let me see who you guys are. No, don't help me! I got this..."

Popo snickered, though he was questioning the methods of this Mii. A very analog approach to things; there wasn't a computer in sight. These beings seemed to have their own little quirks. A byproduct of Master Hand's controlling nature, or was Crazy Hand involved in their creation as well?

"Number…thirty three? No, too short, and no animals." Popo sighed, sharing a bemused glance with Nana. "Maybe forty five…no, there's supposed to be eight of you. Aha, here we are! Number fifteen. Gimme a sec, here…" The Mii set the clipboard down and started rummaging through a box underneath the table, fishing out a small device after a few seconds. "Alright, you guys are third up in the queue. Use this here doohickey to listen to your theme song while you wait. Follow the yellow tape on the ground towards the changing rooms, get into your gear, and talk to the Mii at ringside for further instructions. Any questions?"

Nana and Popo shook their heads and left for the backstage areas at his wave of dismissal, Nana turning the device over in her hands. For some reason, Popo found the inclusion of their emblem on the back of the thing kind of funny. Was this branding going to be everywhere for everyone?

"So I think these dangly bits are for our ears," Nana hedged. "We'll just have to split the two between us."

"That'll work. At least this way we're not trying to fumble through the routine without getting a sense of the timing." Popo looked to the floor, briefly noting the line splitting up and pointing towards the changing rooms. "Guess this is where we split up for a couple minutes. Meet here or at ringside?"

"Let's meet up at ringside. I wouldn't want you to be bored waiting out here in case I suddenly decide to change my hairstyle or something." Without waiting for a response, Nana leaned over and gently pressed her forehead to his before strolling into the women's changing room.

Popo was quick to find his assigned locker in the changing area. Thankfully the logos weren't splashed on everything in here; a rather bog-standard numbering system, with a few numbers here and there missing for the sake of the women Smashers. Strangely enough, some numbers were doubled up, with one having an odd symbol next to it. Shrugging, he set his backpack down next to his locker, opening it with his touch, and quickly changed into the dull gray parka he packed.

Honestly, he didn't think this outfit, nor the corresponding brown one Nana was changing into, would see much use. Back home, these sets of clothes were usually reserved for mundane tasks like training or cleanup, or when they were waiting to launder their more colorful outfits. It was a unanimous decision to use these for the rehearsals, though, because they weren't afraid to get them dirty or scuffed.

After tugging on his gloves, boots, and crampons, he stowed his backpack into the surprisingly spacious locker. He took a moment to cradle his mallet, simply appreciating the heft and balance of the implement. It was a simple design; head and handle. The stout wood, from the Yukumo region, lent it an unusual resistance to explosions and fire—something they learned way back in their first foray—as well as a deceptively light weight.

After performing a few test swings, using both one and two-handed grips, Popo stepped back out of the locker room and headed for the ring.

Just outside the doorway, sat another Mii behind another folding table, consulting another clipboard as Popo drew near. "Gerald sent you?"

"If that was the guy near the main entrance, then yeah," stated Popo. "Has my partner come through here yet?"

"No, no one else came through since the first fella." The Mii jerked a thumb—if he _had_ a thumb—over his shoulder towards the ring. Wario was currently practicing, his theme playing in the background over the many speakers stationed around the immediate area. His routine seemed to involve a couple of steps, but he seemed to mostly be working on riding his motorbike down the ramp and around the outside of the ring.

"Anyway, why don't you go have a seat behind the barricade? Anywhere's fine, as long as you're not interfering with someone else's practicing. If you have any questions, come talk to me. My name's Pat."

Popo bade his farewell and entered the seating area, negotiating the steps and rows of chairs until he found a seat facing both the ring and the side door he'd come in from. He then turned his attention towards the one-man show, as Wario set up for another attempt, his music cutting out as he stepped inside the darkened stage entrance.

While Popo waited, he casually inspected the arena. The place was _enormous_, taking full advantage of the building's dimensions. Everywhere he looked, there were rows upon rows _upon rows_ of seats filling damn-near the entirety of the ample space. What sections of the walls that weren't taken up by seats were dominated by large screens, ensuring that no one could miss out on the action even if they were in the very top rows. One strange detail, one that he'd nearly overlooked, was the inexplicable pair of large vertical brackets attached to each screen and each section of seats not on the ground level. The ground-level seating was neatly bisected by the ring and its two entrance ramps. At the top of both ramps, one lit by blue panels and the other by red, were wide perpendicular stages. There was even a small section of seats at both ends, which formed an awning over the entrances to the ramp stages. Those were probably considered the best seats in the house, for the Opening Ceremonies.

Where _was_ she? Popo had stood up and was staring towards the side entrance when a sudden commotion drew his eyes skyward.

Up top, there was an elaborate lighting system, as well as a very plain-looking, but large, platform hovering in the center. From this distance, Popo could barely make out the numerous Miis swarming around the lights and the platform in either a safety harness attached to the ceiling, or a rocket propulsion device strapped to their back. Just above the platform, constantly _twitching_ his attention between all of the Miis, was a giant left-handed glove. The glove then started pointing rapidly in different directions, shouting several orders in his distorted voice. In response, the jetpack-equipped Miis took up an intricate formation and started to address some issue with the lights.

Popo _really_ hoped Crazy Hand wouldn't interfere with things today…

Eyes falling back towards the side door, his face broke out in a wide grin when he spotted Nana coming into the lights of the arena. He began waving in earnest to get her attention when another woman stepped out slightly behind her. She was clad in a strangely plain dress of pink, but the warm, yet regal presence could be felt from a mile away; it was Princess Peach, and he felt his heart drop the second he'd recognized her.

He immediately stopped waving and sat back down, face flushed with embarrassment. Not that he was acting any differently than normal, but Peach was not the easiest person for them to talk to in the past. She was nice and generous outside of the fights—a stark contrast to the startling intensity she displayed during matches—but she was also _nosy_, with her finger on the pulse of all the gossip circulating around their odd little community. During their first—hers as well—time in this universe, they had a series of perfectly amicable conversations when Nana and he first started to come out of their shells. However, the climbers soon caught a certain look in her eyes. She was still incredibly cordial, but suddenly they felt like they were a puzzle piece; something to be examined and dissected, before being slotted into place. It was…incredibly unnerving.

It was only a little worse in the second gathering. It would have been a _lot_ worse, in hindsight, if it wasn't for the presence of Snake. Peach seemed pretty focused on getting the mercenary and Samus to hang out a lot, but she always seemed to keep the Ice Climbers in the back of her mind—especially once they'd stopped the rumors that they were family. Nana mentioned a tea party that she was invited to once, which quickly turned into what she called 'The World's Most Casual Interrogation'. They had avoided her for the rest of the season when they could, save for the occasional match they shared, and the odd, coincidental crossing of paths. Honestly, if it weren't for Ness, Lucas, and Toon Link, they would have gone insane from staying in their room just to avoid _one_ Smasher.

And here she was, walking right behind Nana, with that gleam no doubt in her eye once again. Maybe she would simply sit elsewhere. Yeah, that's it. She was just following a deeply-blushing Nana and would walk right past—nope, she'd just placed her hand upon Nana's shoulder, steering her towards his position. Panicking, Popo quickly assumed the most casual reclining pose he could manage, while fighting the urge to tug his hood down over his face.

"Ah, Nana, there you are. Mornin', Peach!" He threw out a languid salute before turning his attention to another one of Wario's attempts at making an entrance, as the music had just started when Popo spoke. He was doing everything in his power to avoid a lengthy conversation with the princess, as well as get a hang of what to do when their turn came up.

It only took about two seconds to see his plans fizzle before his eyes, when Peach took up the seat directly to his right, with Nana seated at _her_ right. He didn't bother to suppress the small frown creasing his brow while he watched Wario fall from his bike; the slob attempted to steer too closely around a corner of the ring, and whacked his head on the metal ring post. After a moment of simply laying there, Wario stood back up and tottered back to the entrance, signaling for the music to stop.

Popo couldn't stop a sudden bout of fidgeting. Back home, such a seating arrangement was often used when they were _really_ in trouble. An odd form of separation, despite them still being in the same room, was often employed to keep them from looking to one another and gauging reactions when one was explaining their part of an incident. While he would much rather face her with a united front, he also had to remember that Peach was _not_ a bad person; she probably didn't even realize how it affected them.

"Why, good morning, Popo!" Peach exclaimed, giving the mountaineers each a pat on the head. "It's so good to see you two coming back after your…involuntary sabbatical. I'm _so_ sorry about what happened. Are you two doing okay?"

Popo hesitated for a moment, mostly to see if Nana was going to speak first; he always forgot just how much of their communication relied on non-verbal cues.

"Oh, we're a lot better now—especially now that we've been invited back. A lot's changed since we were last here, so it's gonna feel like a whole new adventure." He smiled. "We're looking forward to reconnecting with friends and fighting all the folks we missed out on last season."

Nana spoke up then. "Yeah, though I think we'd be happy just to be away from our home village for a bit. Things were getting a little too stifling before the invite came through." She giggled softly, and he could see her hands reach out to rest on the barricade in front of their front-row seats. The music struck up again and Wario came out onto the stage, ready for another run.

Peach's hand settled firmly upon Popo's shoulder, once again distracting him from watching the proceedings. He started to formulate the most polite way to tell Peach he really wanted to just watch the action, when she spoke in a low, sly tone.

"So…it's _'partners_' now, huh…?"

All he could do was groan loudly, slumping forward and pulling his hood down over his face with both hands. Popo was _not_, one bit, embarrassed by his and Nana's relationship; it was the apparent _obsession_ some parties seemed to have with it that had him so bothered. He only hoped Nana understood his reaction, else he'd be on the sofa for a while.

Wario's sudden shout brought Popo's attention back from his musings, and he lifted his hood in time to see the rotund man expertly navigating his bike around the outside of the ring. Impassively, he watched the bike successfully round the corners not once, not twice, but _thrice_ before he dismounted from the vehicle and into the direct center of the ring, flashing his three-fingered version of the popular victory sign to the empty arena.

"HOT DAMN," Wario Bellowed, his cavernous maw stretching into a toothy grin. "Finally got it!"

Despite his mood, Popo applauded out of respect for the feat. As Wario picked up his motorcycle and headed back towards the entrance for another go, the climber turned to face Peach. The only part of Nana that he could see was one hand tightly gripping the soft material of the barricade's padding. He took a series of deep breaths as he tried to formulate a diplomatic response, still wanting to remain friendly with the princess. It wouldn't do to have some sort of off-field tension where it wasn't warranted.

"AW, LEAVE THEM KIDS ALONE, PEACHY!" A woman's voice Popo couldn't identify called out from the side-entrance, loud enough to distract even Wario; the man hit the side of the ring straight-on with his motorbike, causing him to flip over the handlebars and collapse in a heap. He scowled at the brunette who had just stepped into view, but said nothing while he picked up his ride and went backstage again.

Peach sighed wistfully, waving the woman over. "Don't worry; I'm just having some fun with you two. Think of this like… Oh, I don't know, confirming that I don't have to worry about setting you up anymore." She then added in a low, conspiratorial tone, "I _do_ wish to know how you two came to terms, though." She winked then, as the other woman came around and sat in the row directly behind them.

She wore an equally plain dress of yellow, cut and styled similarly to Peach's garb. She looked to be…maybe slightly shorter than the blonde, but that could easily be due to posture. But there was no mistaking the cheery, playful energy she exuded. She had a friendly, toothy grin across her rounder face, blue eyes practically sparkling as she stuck out both hands, one towards each climber.

"Hey guys, my name's Daisy! Pleased to meetcha!"

After receiving a handshake from both, Daisy immediately rounded on Nana. "I'm _so_ sorry for the way Peach cornered you in the locker room like that. If I didn't get my head stuck putting on this dang dress, I woulda been able to bail you out!"

"I did _not_ corner Nana." Peach took on a haughty, slightly wounded tone, one hand resting daintily upon her chest. "I simply wanted to know how she'd been while these two were on hiatus."

Daisy pinched the bridge of her nose, and shook her head. "You said 'Hello' and immediately followed up with, and I _quote_, 'How are you and your boyfriend getting along?'" She sighed, before quickly adding, "Don't say Nana could have just left, either; she was only half-dressed!"

Peach's rebuttal was cut short, when a loud buzzer suddenly went off. After the noise ceased, Pat floated out from the side entrance and shouted with an electronically-amplified voice.

"TIME'S UP, WARIO; CLEAR THE RING AND LET THE NEXT ONES GET THEIR TURN."

Wario nodded, exiting the ring after a final successful attempt. He then hoisted the motorcycle over his head, set it on the other side of the barrier, and leaped into a nearby seat to presumably catch a nap.

"I believe that's our cue," Peach stated, standing with a languid stretch. Popo was a bit surprised to see Daisy standing as well, but maybe one was there for the other's support? It didn't really matter, ultimately; the second Peach's back was turned towards them, Popo immediately scrambled into the seat next to Nana and drew her in for a hug.

* * *

Nana didn't want to move. Her legs felt like rubber, her face hurt, and worst of all, they were back outside in the midday heat.

Limbs splayed out, they lay beside one another in the shade provided by a copse of trees in a small park. At the onset, Nana was absolutely confident they would be able to manage a simple walk home. Theyd only made it about a third of the way, though, before their bodies started to give out, and Nana made the executive decision to take a break. An hour later, they still couldn't rally enough energy to sit up, let alone walk.

"Nana, if I don't make it, I give you permission to eat my corpse. Live, and carry on our legacy." Popo placed the back of one hand on his forehead, and was gesturing dramatically with the other. "Well, maybe not carry on the legacy; I don't think my spirit would like to see you move on."

"Oh, ha ha—_ow_," Nana winced, the smile blossoming across her lips causing her face to sting. "I _distinctly_ remember promising that I would either forever grieve as a widow, spending no less than six hours a day staring off towards the peak where you'd perished, or ensure we would be found frozen together, forever reminding future generations of our eternal bond." She paused for a moment, before adding, "I still haven't decided if the second option should include a saucy final pose from us."

"Nah, that's a strictly back-home situation. There will probably never be a situation where we actually _freeze_ here. As it is, you have about three hours to figure it out, before the sun bakes me into a husk of Popo-jerky." A drawn-out, pained grunt followed his response; Popo must have been pushing himself into a seated position. Nana couldn't quite muster the strength to turn her head to face him. "Why the hell didn't they turn on the Refresher Fields for this?"

A good question, as the Refresher Field was an important staple in this tournament. An invisible barrier that surrounded the fighting stages, its purpose was exactly what the name implied; when a fighter was sent through it, two things happened. First, any injury sustained in battle would be immediately healed. It even cleaned off some of the sweat built up on skin, hair, clothing, et cetera, but never could ease the smell. Secondly, the fighter in question would be teleported to a small staging area featuring several waiting platforms, which would deliver them back into the fray.

The fields would have been incredibly useful, Nana reckoned, as she recalled the series of face-plants and other spills they'd taken during their rehearsal. Popo's worst trip came just as they were running up towards the ring, when he'd slipped and slammed his forehead right into the edge of the ring apron. Nana's worst occurred during an attempt to jump over the top rope from the ground, her foot hooking around it and spinning her body to land face-first onto the canvas inside the ring. There were other pratfalls, scattered throughout the rehearsal sessions (they got back in line after their allotted time; the lack of Smashers showing up saw them practicing again an hour later), but those two were the worst of the bunch. On the bright side, they got a good feel for how their entrance was going to work.

"Honestly, I have no idea," She finally said. "Maybe it's being worked on. Either that, or they want us to learn by avoiding pain." She let out a moan as she sat up, shaking her head. "Wish granted, if it's the second one." She lowered herself back down, careful not to jostle her noggin any more than she had to. "The worst part about this is that we shouldn't be so worn out. All we did was run, jump, and pose; we do that all the time!"

"Yeah, but we did it repeatedly, Nana," Popo retorted, one hand easing into her field of vision to hold up a finger. "For like, an hour altogether. Yes, we had time to rest between, but it was still the most intense exercise than we've done since…" He trailed off with a sigh. "Since we started training the first Guardians…"

"Popo…" She began, sitting up once more to stare at him.

He waved his hand, now forcing himself to stand up. The act took him about three minutes to complete, and his face reddened when he seemed to realize that. Still, he cleared his throat and extended a hand to help her up. Upon taking it, she found herself hoisted to her feet, but not without considerable effort on Popo's behalf.

"Urgh…If this were a long expedition, we wouldn't be able to make it." He raked the fingers of both hands through already disheveled strands of his hair, growling in frustration the whole time. "Let's be honest, here; we got sad and lazy over the last couple years back home, and we won't be able to fight in our current state. We're…" He sighed with a skyward gaze. "We're gonna have to start training again, somehow. Try to remember every last bit of exercise we did back home, or in previous tournaments."

Nana looked at the ground for a while after his suggestion, before bringing her gaze back up to meet his. Wordlessly, she bent down to grab her backpack, and put it on. Once she saw Popo do the same, she gently took hold of his hand and led the way back home.

"When you're right, you're right," She said. "I think we should start with some stamina exercises. I have a few in mind we could probably try tonight."

A shocked gasp from Popo made her stop and laugh for nearly two straight minutes.

"Not _that_, you big doofus! But thanks for the reminder." She suddenly stepped in real close to Popo, leaning in with a smirk. "We need to have a good, long talk about this morning, Mister."

Popo gulped with widened eyes, and Nana spun on her heel to continue the walk back, setting a pace that forced Popo to jog to catch up.

"Nana? Nana, wait! Do we _really_ have to do that? Nana, C'mon!"

* * *

_Author's Notes: (10/31/2019)_ _Hey folks, here's another chapter for you! I feel like I keep pushing back the chapter where I'll finally debut some combat, but I also feel the need to build things up more. I feel like I'm well on pace to where I want to be, though. There are just so many characters I want to introduce still!  
_

_I don't want to ever appear like I'm taking you fine folks for granted, so I will continue to thank you all for giving my story the time of day! _


	7. Chapter 7

"Popo, I feel it getting tighter…! Can't you go any faster?" Nana panted. Her attempt to wipe her glistening face was a waste of energy; the rest of her was so saturated, the action only seemed to _add_ sweat.

"You're the one…_huff_… setting the pace, woman! I'm not a…_puff_…a machine, you know!" Popo wheezed in response.

"If you don't move that body faster, neither of us is gonna finish; do you want to live with that frustration!?"

"Fine!" A couple seconds later, and Popo's ragged breathing was all but blasting into her ear as he picked up his pace. They were both tired, but they also needed to see this activity done. They had done nothing but talk about doing it, and they finally worked up the nerve to commit to the act. Nana initially felt embarrassed about performing in a public setting, but people needed to know just how deep their bond went.

"Almost…almost there. Keep…hngh…going!" She grunted.

"Nana, I…I'm gonna—" Popo groaned, his voice strained with effort.

"Don't you freaking _dare!_" Nana snapped.

A sudden, loud beeping brought them both to a dead stop. Nana fumbled in the pocket of her parka for a moment before fishing out a digital stopwatch, the source of the beeping, and pressed a button on the side to silence it. Afterwards, she beamed down at a collapsed Popo, feeling rather proud of their accomplishment. "Look, Popo! We went at it for an hour!"

Her jogging buddy merely laid there, apparently far too occupied with filling his lungs to form a coherent response. He took a moment to untie the length of rope that was tethering his wrist to hers, before weakly offering a thumbs-up. Nana eventually flopped down next to him, the consequences of the exercise suddenly catching up with her. "Okay, maybe we should have taken a gradual approach to this." She sighed at an answering grunt from Popo, though she reached over and tousled his hair regardless. "Look, we were doing so well on the treadmill—twenty minutes without issue! I thought we could go for an hour, and we did. So there."

He grunted again.

"Popo, I'm gonna need you to use actual words if we're gonna have a conversation here." Without preamble, Nana withdrew her hand from his scalp and immediately channeled a blizzard spell, point-blank, directly into his face. Popo spluttered and flailed during the first couple seconds of the onslaught, but eventually went limp with a sigh of relief.

"Ahh…much better… Thanks for that." Popo quickly lowered his hood and opened the front of his parka, as the residual snow from the spell rapidly melted in the heat. The black undershirt he wore beneath his parka was made of a material allegedly designed to draw in and absorb moisture, and he seemed eager to test it out. Nana declined his silent offer to return the favor, simply content to catch her breath.

Nana pressed her hands onto the ground and leaned back to look to the sky. Off in the distance, she could see a mass of somewhat darker clouds coming in from slightly southwest of their position. First bit of weather she'd seen so far since they'd arrived. She plucked a few blades of grass, let them fall to the ground, and determined maybe five to seven hours would pass before some rain would hit the area.

A little less than a week had passed since that first day at rehearsals, and they had been alternating days between rehearsals and conditioning training ever since. Slowly, but surely, there were improvements in both fields; their timing in the entrance routine was getting tighter, for sure. In _theory_, it shouldn't take more than a good few days of routines to get everything figured out, which would free up more days for their body training sessions. That was where the real improvements were needed. If those changes Ness mentioned were true, they would have to really step things up in order to remain on an even footing.

Nana had pitched a few ideas to expand upon their combat repertoire over the past few days. Despite their more chaotic nature, Popo was quite receptive to her ideas. However, he expressed some concerns about not being able to reliably practice them, and they would probably have to improvise during their actual matches. He didn't want to clue people in on what they were planning, which made sense. In the meantime, he had stressed the importance of sticking close to one another, hence the idea of tethering their wrists together for exercises like the marathon they just ran.

Taking a moment to divest herself of her end of the tether, Nana clasped her hands behind her head and laid back in preparation for a short nap; Popo's even breathing suggested he'd already dozed off. She was worn out, sore, and very warm; perfect conditions for falling asleep herself when a sudden grunt from Popo brought her back to the waking world. Apparently someone wasn't quite ready to be down for the count…

"Hey, Nana?"

And that someone seemed insistent she be up as well.

"Yeah, Popo?"

He fell silent for a few moments. Nana assumed he'd fallen asleep again before he spoke up.

"What do you think Wolf was talking about yesterday?"

Suddenly wide awake, Nana quickly sat up and attempted to look casual as she looked around. While the route of their little fun-run had taken them well out of the Housing District in the last half, there was always the possibility of someone milling around at the worst possible moment. She couldn't _see_ anyone. Popo was still lying down, staring at the sky. He either didn't think the topic was a sensitive one, or he figured they were secluded enough to openly talk about it.

* * *

_~Twenty-Two Hours Earlier~_

They were watching Wolf perform his entrance routine.

Nana and Popo were ensconced in what quickly became their usual seats in the Primary Arena, when they were available. They'd started to use the awning seats over the entrance that went unused during rehearsals, as they provided an excellent vantage point for both the ring and the side door everyone used to enter. Popo felt the need to keep an eye on the second one, just in case there were repeat performances of their conversation with Peach; the extra walking distance would afford the waiting partner just that much more time to formulate responses to queries about their exclusion _or_ their relationship.

Fortunately, their companion in conversation during today's rehearsal was Snake, who only focused on the former subject.

"Huh, looks like everyone in here was missing in action last tournament," Snake muttered as he sat down behind them, leaning on the backs of their chairs.

Nana grunted, while Popo nodded with a sigh.

"Yeah, the gang's mostly here. Maybe we should form a secondary faction," Nana grumbled, simultaneously tired of talking about it, yet also wanting to discuss it with Snake, as he was a kindred spirit. At least he was easy enough to talk to; he and the Ice Climbers hailing from colder climates laid an interesting foundation from which they could easily get along. Hearing Snake talk about the annual competition between the indigenous tribes around his home turf was always an interesting topic, and they would answer with stories from their own inter-village contests.

"How about 'The Screwed Squad'?" Popo suggested, gesturing with his hands as if he were unfurling a banner.

Snake chuckled for a moment, before clearing his throat. It didn't make his voice any less gravelly. "It's not a pretty subject, so I'll spare you guys from talking too much about it. You've probably been repeating your story a lot since you got here."

Nana nodded after a moment. "Yeah, we got asked about it a few times. All we really know now is that Master Hand said he's investigating things. But with all the tournament prep-work he probably has to oversee he's probably being pulled in a lot of different directions. So who knows how long it's gonna take?"

"Maybe we'll hear something after the Opening Ceremonies and things calm down. Let's talk about something else," Popo stated, seemingly unconcerned with his borderline commanding tone with Snake.

She could hear Snake's smile in his voice. "Alright, alright…so what should we talk about? Whatever it is, I don't think it should be about Wolf's _prancing_, though," the soldier added in a considerably louder tone, which made the bipedal, lupine man stop and sneer up towards them. "What? You've got to be prepared for hecklers in the crowd!" Wolf snorted derisively and went back to his practice. Snake sighed. "He really needs to lighten up, which says a lot coming from—"

"Wait a minute, look who's coming," Popo interjected, pointing towards the side entrance everyone was all too familiar with at this point.

Something was off the moment Fox and Marth stepped into view; Nana actually looked up to see if Crazy Hand or some maintenance worker Mii was messing with the lighting system for dramatic effect. When she brought her gaze back down to the ring, she could see Popo lean forward and curse under his breath. Snake made a quick gesture to silence them both while tapping behind his ear with his other hand. He then quietly stepped over their row of seats to sit next to Popo. She couldn't understand what the mercenary was doing; a quick glance shared with her partner could only elicit a shrug from Popo.

Wolf stopped his routine, swaggering across the ring to drape himself over the top rope to better stare at Fox and Marth's choice of seating. She couldn't see Wolf's face from this angle, but judging by the open hostility on the bipedal, vulpine man's face it couldn't be anything other than the dirtiest scowl.

"Well, well, well…" Wolf crooned, and Nana could barely see one corner of his mouth curl up in a rare smile. "If it isn't Fox McCloud, in the flesh; I expected you to keep avoiding me until the Hands teleported us onto Final Destination or something."

"Well, Wolf, I can't exactly be everywhere to greet everyone. I'm only one guy, and there's looking to eventually be at least seventy-four of everyone else." Fox shrugged, sighing with more than a hint of exasperation. "Shouldn't you be getting back to your little song and dance? You're wasting your time slot," He added, rotating his hand in that nigh-universal 'get on with it' gesture.

"No, I think this is something a little more important. It's not often I get a chance to have a chin-wag with the man who sold me out." In one fluid motion, Wolf leaned hard on the ropes, using them to flip his body out of the ring and land on his feet, before stalking towards the two. Marth had reached for his sword, but halted when Fox put a hand on his arm. "Yes, stay your hand…this is between _us_, after all."

Nana quickly turned away to risk a glance at the other two beside her. For the most part, they kept low and still. Snake seemed far more at ease in his role as observer, while Popo seemed to be fighting the urge to fidget. A quickly lost battle, as his leg began an incessant bouncing that refused to stop, even when she placed her hand on his knee. This only earned her a look of apology, and the tiniest shake of his head.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Wolf." Fox's words brought her focus back to ringside. He was now standing, arms folded across his chest, and his nose almost touching Wolf's. She wouldn't have been surprised to see one of them reaching for their blaster. If Nana wasn't so concerned about what might happen next, she would have bet money on Wolf being the first to draw.

"Of course you don't," Wolf spat, his stance firm. "It was nearly two years ago, and you were probably having so much fun that you'd forgotten about it. I only hope that when all is revealed, you'll at least have the courtesy to grovel—"

Wolf's tirade was suddenly cut short when he was suddenly shoved by Fox, and all hell broke loose.

As Wolf fell backwards, he'd grabbed the collar of Fox's jacket and pulled him over the barricade. They landed in a tangle of thrashing limbs, both parties landing hits before and well after they'd hit the ground. There was no finesse or science behind these strikes, a stark contrast to how Nana had seen them fight in the past. Even when they somehow scrambled to their feet, the fighting remained ugly.

Popo started to stand, only to be pushed back into his chair by Snake's firm hand. "Don't get involved, kid; you'll only find yourself in trouble too," Snake commanded. After a tense moment, Popo nodded and simply leaned forward to watch the altercation unfold.

For twenty long seconds, the brawl went on. Wolf eventually tackled Fox back onto the ground, where they exchanged blows via whatever means while rolling. Wolf managed to drive his knee into Fox's midsection, and Fox paid him right back with an elbow to the jaw. All throughout, Marth was shouting orders for the two to cease fighting, but neither showed any sign of stopping. Just when Nana thought the altercation would only end when one or both fighters were unconscious, Pat the Mii zipped out from the side entrance. His stormy expression was evident, even at this distance.

His amplified voice reverberated throughout the arena. "SECURITY TEAM; WE HAVE AN UNAUTHORIZED FIGHT AT RINGSIDE! TWO ARE INVOLVED!"

Immediately, the doors opposite from the side entrance flew open with a startling bang, and ten strong-looking humanoids surged into the arena. Of the ten, six appeared unarmed, but she could see that two were carrying swords with metal dowels for blades, and the last two were equipped with some kind of high-tech arm cannons, not too different from Samus' weapon of choice. Silhouetted against the light of the open doors, those were the only details about these newcomers she could initially make out. Once they swarmed into the well-lit portion of the arena, however, Nana spotted two interesting attributes; their blocky hairstyles, and their telltale digitized faces. These were actually _Miis_! These bulky combat models were so far removed from their floating, capsule-bodied, spindly-limbed counterparts. They even had actual hands!

What _also_ set these models apart from the common Mii was how they completely bypassed what might have been a dialogue phase to stopping a fight—they went _straight_ for brute force. Separating into two teams of five, the three unarmed models were in charge of pulling the belligerents apart, while the two with the cannons hung back. Even though they were more than ten feet away from the main action, the cannon-clad Miis leveled their weapons at the struggling charges of the unarmed. The ones that were carrying the swords stood at the ready between both groups, electricity now arcing off of the surfaces of the dowel-blades. Marth, wisely, raised his empty hands and slowly stepped back from the barricade until his full body was completely visible to the combat Miis.

Pat's expression flickered over to something resembling disappointment, spherical hands resting on his hips. "Get these two to Master Hand's office," he snapped. While Wolf looked rather surprised at the arrival of these newcomers, neither of the canines seemed to care about their impending sentences, nor their present conditions. Fox sported some swelling around his left eye, and Wolf had a nasty split in his lower lip. The latter grinned, unflinchingly exacerbating the oozing wound while allowing the Miis to shove him towards the exit.

"This isn't over yet, Fox! Not by a long shot!" Wolf's words and laughter echoed through the arena as the two were herded out.

* * *

_~Current Day and Time~_

Nana was in thought for a while before responding; she wanted to make sure she recalled the memory as perfectly as she could. After a beat, she sighed and shook her head.

"I really don't know what he's getting at. I remember Wolf getting a bit…dramatic in the past, but I've never heard him airing dirty laundry between the two of them like that before…" She trailed off with a shrug. "At least Snake was there to keep you out of trouble. You had me scared when you suddenly got up to jump in."

"You know, I still have no idea what I woulda done if Snake didn't stop me. Those two were acting like…like…"

"Like animals?" Nana offered.

Popo laughed, rolling over onto his belly to look at her. "Yeah, though I hope I never slip up and say that to their faces. I _also_ hope we never get caught in a scrape where someone could rat us out. I do _not_ want to deal with that…Security Team." He shuddered.

A small shiver ran down her backbone before she replied with a cringe. "Boy, tell me about it. I can understand some of them carrying those nasty-looking swords, but are those arm cannons _really_ necessary?"

With a tilt of his head, Popo somehow managed a shrug from his prone position. Nana suspected he wasn't going to be moving anywhere of his own volition anytime soon. "Who knows what goes on in the head…palm…fingers—whatever!—of Master Hand, these days? With apparently so many Smashers and with crowds as big as they are, he probably just wanted more muscle behind the scenes to compensate. I wouldn't be surprised if it took big fights in the past to encourage Master Hand to make these new models." He nodded with an air of authority, rolling over onto his back once again.

"You know, Popo, I'm so glad these aren't our good parkas. The way you're rolling around, that gray's gonna become just as brown as mine is." She began giggling, which immediately evolved to full-on laughter when Popo suddenly schooled his features into his best impersonation of Harasen's lecture-face and began to roll more, never once breaking eye-contact.

Eventually he stopped, looking like he came to a realization. "I…think my legs aren't working anymore. Hold…hold on a second." He sat up, and started to do some stretches.

Nana rolled her eyes with a shake of her head, rising to a standing position. "If I have to carry you back, I'm gonna swaddle you up for being such a baby about a teeny little jog." Looming over Popo with arms folded, she continued. "That might make a wonderful addition to someone's scrapbook and—"

"Hey, whaddya know," Popo leapt to his feet, staggering for a moment on wobbling knees. "I think I'm feeling better already!" A few tentative steps were taken. "I can at least make it home, anyway…"

"Good!" Nana enthused, doing a complete one-eighty from her previous threatening tone. "After we shower and eat lunch, we need to restock on supplies. I don't wanna get caught in that rain on the way back." She took a moment to gather up the rope, and coiled it around her shoulder before running over to support a tottering Popo for their walk home.

* * *

Popo's hammer connected with the sandbag, and he felt no small sense of satisfaction when, despite Nana's best efforts at holding it in place, it flew backwards. She quickly retrieved it and dragged it back to where he stood. As she settled back into position, he saw her dig her crampons into the ground for better purchase, before bracing the bag with her hands.

"Again," she barked out.

Popo didn't give her time to prepare; he immediately did an about-face, and hopped backwards to deliver a backhanded swing at the sandbag. The mallet swung true, impacting a mere half-inch above where Nana's right mitten was holding it.

"Good! Do that again," Another aerial strike landed, this time just below her hand.

Nana continued issuing her commands, and Popo would answer with the appropriate swings of his hammer.

Yesterday's visit to the Primary Arena turned out to be a total bust for rehearsals; there were just too many Smashers present who were also waiting to practice. It wasn't too surprising, since a brief consulting of their computer's messages that morning showed that there were currently over sixty competitors on-site, but still sort of an annoyance to see such a long line. For their physical training, however, it wasn't a total loss. They'd settled for exploring the Arena—after seeing that there were enough Smashers ahead of them to last at least eight and a half hours—and eventually found a tattered sandbag in one of the storage rooms. After a quick patch-job and refilling, it was ready for use again, and they carried it out of the building via an underground vehicle ramp. After some deliberation, they brought their prize to a rather secluded area at the top of a wooded hill overlooking the Housing District, with the intentions of practicing their attacks after a jogging regiment up said hill.

A few minutes came and went, and Popo found himself somewhat winded during his controlled assault on the sandbag. Time between his attacks increased, and the power behind his swings just weren't quite holding up. Still, he soldiered on, because he hadn't been swinging for nearly as long as a match would theoretically go on.

Nana noticed this, and he could see a mischievous spark in her eyes as she peered at him from behind the sandbag. "Starting to fade, my dear? Left side, high."

He sighed, his hammer thwacking the sandbag in the designated area. "Not really? I could probably go for a few minutes more."

"Doesn't _feel_ like you can... If you're not that tired, why not pretend the sandbag is somebody? Left side, go for the middle."

His aim was true, even though he had to wait for her hand to move. She was quick, but he wanted a clear shot. "I don't think I have the imagination for _that_, Love. There isn't anyone here I hate enough to go all-out on…right now, anyway."

Nana's eyes once again peeked out from behind the sandbag, one eyebrow raised. "It doesn't have to be anyone here. What about…_Kallik_?"

"Kallik!? That…that _arrogant_ little…" He then let out a wordless shout of frustration, and his swings connected with the bag with full force once again. High swings, low swings, overhead swings, jumping swings; you name it, he did it. Maybe a few more head-height swings than he should have used in a row, but there was enough variety in his other strikes at least. All throughout this renewed intensity, a litany of cusses filled the air, which in retrospect made for a fine duet when combined with Nana's melodic giggling as she constantly circled around the bag to keep it upright throughout the barrage of swings.

Popo's wrath peaked when he grabbed the sandbag out of Nana's hands. It felt particularly good to envision the smug bastard's face on the thing's surface, as he reared back and delivered a couple of quick head-butts, before turning to throw it in the opposite direction. The sandbag actually bounced off the ground before flying right into the tree-line. He couldn't help a self-satisfied grin at how far he managed to throw the dang thing.

That grin was wiped right off his face when he heard several startled shouts of alarm emanating from where it disappeared in the trees.

"Well," Popo blandly drawled, planting the head of the mallet onto the ground and leaning on the handle. "Looks like we're gonna have some explaining to do."

"Hey, what're you just standing there for?" Nana huffed. "You threw it, you get it."

"Yes, Miss." Popo heaved a sigh that hopefully was too dramatic to be taken seriously, and marched towards the tree-line. At least she was taking today's role as Lead Climber seriously.

* * *

"And you're _sure_ they came this way?" Young Link was asking as they picked their way through the woods. It was the third time Ness heard the query, but he was too determined in following their only lead to get mad about it.

It stung a little, admittedly; Ness, Lucas, and the Links had a wonderful little reunion a little less than a week ago, but the conspicuous absence of a certain _couple_ definitely marred the occasion. Compounding the issue was his apparent inability to properly give Nana and Popo a piece of his mind, because they were somehow never home whenever he rounded up this little posse and came knocking on their door. They also weren't found sating their burger addiction at that one eatery, and finding them in the department store would be a nightmare in logistics with just the four of them. They couldn't even catch them at the Primary Arena for rehearsals, but at least other Smashers reported seeing them there. Ness finally caught a lead when he'd spotted them running through the streets of the Housing District a few days ago.

Now, Ness was well aware that he could have simply showed up on their doorstep during the evenings. But with their lights shut off so early, he'd decided it would be super weird to wake them up just to tell them off. Not that organizing this little hunting party to locate and tell them off was any _less_ weird…

He'll address that issue when it came up.

"Absolutely sure; I'd seen them jogging this way the other day." He pushed aside a branch, wondering if their little quartet should have stuck to the main pathway. Staying off the beaten path might have suited them if they were tracking a wild beast, but these were two goobers in parkas. Why didn't anyone take over leading the group when they got to this area anyway? Surely one of the Links would be more adept at taking point in this formation. Maybe they just deferred to him as the de facto leader because he was the first young Smasher? That _still_ didn't make sense, because Kirby was younger…maybe? Just how did that little puffball's kind age, anyway?

Maybe he was just reading too much into it. He just happened to be in front. That's all.

"What do you think they're doing, anyway?" The other Link—Toon Link—wondered, a shuffling sound suggested he was scratching his head. At least he and Young Link were getting along, something Ness was very worried about initially. At the outset, there were a number tense and awkward moments between the two as they ironed out some misunderstandings. Fortunately, once they'd figured out their places in the whole temporal tapestry that served as the backdrop for all of Hyrule's representatives, they became fast friends.

Ness's own efforts at figuring out the timelines quickly left him with a massive headache. Big Link, who was yet again a different Big Link, let him borrow a book about it once. It only slightly helped. When he'd returned the tome, days later, Link's comment about how 'nobody was accepting it' had left Ness scratching his head.

There he went, getting lost in his thoughts about the past again.

"I'd really like to find out, whatever it is," Ness muttered, before adding, "They better not have been running off just to make out or something. They can do _that_ at home."

"No, that's not like them," Lucas quietly stated. When everyone turned to look at him, he blushed a bit from the extra attention. Still, his expression was resolute and he nodded firmly. "Hey, I might not have known them for as long as…" He started to point at Young Link; he then seemed to think better of it. "As long as…" A repeat performance with their cat-eyed companion followed. "Okay, as long as Ness has, but we've hung out enough. I know how they are. We _all_—"

"Wait, shut up a second," the young Hero of Time(?) interjected curtly, leaning forward with a hand to his ear. "I think I hear someone shouting."

Lucas looked chagrined for a moment, but confirming Young Link's discovery quickly overwrote the emotion. Before long, Ness could also hear it. It was definitely Popo's voice, and boy did he sound ticked.

"What's got him so wound up?" Ness pondered aloud, and he started to move on with greater urgency. Faint thumps were now punctuating a litany of increasingly audible swearing as they zeroed in on the yelling. "Guys, I think he's _fighting_ someone!"

The four boys dropped all pretenses of stealth and forged ahead as fast as they could. Ness and Lucas struggled a couple of times, but luckily they were able to at least keep from losing sight of the two Hylians, who definitely _did_ have a lot more experience in moving through this kind of terrain. Ness could see a clearing up ahead, though he couldn't quite tell what was happening. Whatever it was, though, it definitely involved a beat-down of some kind.

Lucas was able to reach the Links a few seconds ahead of Ness, who had snagged his clothing on a thorny bush. While he was unharmed, he wanted to be careful in extricating himself; he liked this shirt. As Ness drew near, he crouched low to match the stances of the other three. Toon Link was peering through a small telescope, humming thoughtfully.

"You see anything?" Lucas was asking.

"No," replied the part-time sailor. "There _was_ movement, but that was a sec—Incoming!"

The sound of rustling leaves and snapping branches was the only herald that something was hurtling their way, as Toon Link had no time to identify it. The four boys scattered, diving out from each other with startled shouts as the pinwheeling object crashed to the into the dirt somewhere near where Young Link had just been standing. The heavy thing then skipped along the dirt, end over end, before sliding to a stop near the bush Ness was previously ensnared in.

"What the hell was _that!?"_ Ness demanded. He picked himself up, dusted the dirt and twigs from his person, and took a look at the others. Apart from some minor scrapes, everyone appeared okay. Lucas was already at the 'crash site' of whatever the object was, and he looked confused. Carefully, Ness picked his way through the undergrowth to come up alongside Lucas, only to sigh when he saw familiar eyes blankly staring up from a canvas surface.

It was a sandbag.

Well, now he just felt _stupid_.

Ness barely registered the other two coming up alongside him. Pieces of an overall puzzle were appearing in his mind's eye, and he began to slot them into place. Absences explained, avoidance maybe debunked, and he felt his previous hurt feelings dissipate. Didn't mean he wasn't still annoyed about the whole thing, but he understood a bit more.

On closer inspection, it definitely looked like this thing had seen better days. There were new patches sewn into it, and many of the non-crucial seams were coming undone. There was considerable fraying around the edges, and a couple of the loops for the mounting chains had been torn off long ago. It was hard to tell, but Ness could only assume this was a relic from either the second, or maybe even early third tournament.

"So uh, any chance I'm gonna be able to get that back or…?" A new voice asked from directly behind Ness.

He whirled around with a yelp of surprise, fingertip ablaze with a PK Fire, before he realized he was just about to light up a grinning Popo. The two Links had reacted similarly; they'd reached for their swords before stopping to awkwardly hover their hands over their left shoulders. And Lucas…Lucas was trying—and failing spectacularly—to fight an oncoming grin, and was covering his mouth with one hand to poorly hide the fact.

"I saw him sneaking up on you three. I wanted to see what he'd do," Lucas admitted with a shrug, once he'd realized the jig was up. "I didn't even think he'd be able to do it."

Ness looked back to Popo, who simply held an index finger to his smiling lips, and let the PK Fire dissipate from his fingertip with an exasperated sigh.

"We've been trying to find you guys for a while, you know," Ness grumbled. "Also, you look ridiculous in that parka."

"Really? I've always been told lavender brings out my eyes." Popo fluttered his eyes to emphasize his point, before assuming an unnaturally serious expression. Slowly, he swept his gaze to meet the eyes of the other three boys. Eventually he nodded, his expression softening into a sheepish one. "I guess we _have_ been kind of scarce lately. Sorry about that, guys."

Wait a minute…

Ness blinked in surprise. What did Popo just do there?

While he never discouraged the other Smashers from believing otherwise, Ness was no mind-reader. Letting that common exaggeration go sometimes afforded him the occasional edge in matches from time to time—at least against the more superstitious opponents who believed in things like precognition, anyway. What Popo just did was exactly what people often accused _Ness_ of doing, Popo included among them, and it left the PSI-user perplexed.

"Hey, it's alright," Lucas said in an assuring tone. "Looks like you've just been trying to train more, that's all."

"I appreciate it, but no. We could've easily made time to hang out with you guys, but we were too preoccupied with trying to…I don't know, catch up or something," Popo frowned as he stepped past Ness, and hoisted the sandbag across his shoulders. "C'mon, let's go meet up with Nana; she'd have my hide if I hogged all you guys to myself, you know?"

Popo led them back to the clearing, where Nana was doing some test swings with her mallet. Every couple of swings, she would jump back or put up her hands to guard not unlike a boxer. She was wearing an equally ridiculous orange parka. She spotted them easily enough, and waved them over with a big smile on her face.

"Hey you guys," She gave everyone an appraising look. "I hope Kallik didn't land on you when Popo launched him your way."

"I never agreed to that name," Popo immediately retorted.

Young Link shook his head, holding up a hand "No, we managed to avoid—wait, Kallik?"

"It's a bit of a story," Popo muttered, flinging the sandbag to the ground with more than a little bit of force. "Several stories, actually, from both of us. He sucks."

Ness smirked a bit, stroking his chin in thought. They never spoke much about their home life until recently, so he found this to be a nifty change of pace. Usually it was Nana and Popo who were learning about everyone else's home life. Except when they talked to Snake, anyway; that man seemed incredibly adept at getting _anyone_ to open up.

"So uh, why were you guys lurking out in the woods and tracking us?" Nana asked with a neutral expression, stepping past Popo to address the four. From his position behind Nana, Popo threw them an apologetic look.

Ness winced; Nana wasn't wasting time in getting to the point. Of course, when she phrased it like that, it certainly sounded like a weird thing to be caught doing. Regardless of how it made his party look, though, he had to press on. He took a deep breath, clearing out most of the choice phrases he had on the tip of his tongue.

He must have cleared out more than he thought, because he didn't know what to even say now.

He rubbed at the back of his head, choosing his next words as best as he could. "Listen, I…I got the wrong idea, I guess. Lucas showed up, we got together with Link and Link, and we were trying to find you so we could all hang out together, you know? But we couldn't find you." He paused to rub at his temples with the thumb and middle finger of his hand. "I somehow got it in my head that you guys were avoiding us or something, and I don't know how."

He lowered his hand to see Popo looking away and rubbing his arm. Nana looked similarly guilty, with her hands clasped behind her back while she toed at the dirt with her boot. He quickly held out his hands and shook his head. "No no, this is mostly on me. Anyway, I didn't really think about _why_ you guys were so scarce."

Neither of the climbers spoke for a while. Ness almost felt like he was under the gaze of a disapproving teacher, and he barely fought down the urge to fidget. Finally, Popo broke the silence after a look of dawning realization crossed his features.

"Why uh, didn't you just send a message from your computer thing?"

Ness was stunned, his mouth hanging open with one finger raised. And he stayed like that for a good minute, until Nana approached him and clapped her hand onto his shoulder.

"It's okay. Let's just skip to the part where we're cool with each other again, because me and Popo want to do some catching up." She grinned and gave him a light shake before stepping past him to greet the others. Popo followed along behind her, shrugging when he caught Ness's eye.

* * *

Nana was reclining against the base of a tree some time later, taking a long pull of water from her canteen. She then doffed her hood so she could pour a good deal onto her hair and face. Her portion of the workout was done, and she was content to relax while watching Lucas and the Links have a go at the sandbag. Popo was holding the bag in place while everyone took their turns practicing on it.

It was really nice to have met up with everyone—especially Young Link. Out of everyone, it had been the longest since she and Popo had seen him, and his appearance was the most surprising. It was nice to see that neither of the Links had really changed much. If anyone in the group had changed, it was Lucas. Somewhere in the middle of the last tournament's broadcasts, they'd noticed a change in his demeanor. While they couldn't figure out exactly what the change was, it was definitely for the better.

She'll have to ask him about that sometime.

Ness flopped into a seated position to her right, breathing hard from a recent session of bag-work.

"That sandbag was a good find, Nana! The others thought they'd _never_ get a chance to actually practice anything until the actual matches," he exclaimed, once he'd caught his breath.

"There's probably a lot of unused things in storage closets all over the place," Nana hedged. "We could probably find everyone here their own sandbag, and maybe an assortment of other items. Whatcha guys think about bringing back that one game we all played back when we had access to the sparring chambers?"

"Oh god, Pit-Ball would be _so_ fun to play again. Not out here, though; who knows how many teeth we'd knock out of each other, and I'm pretty sure you and Popo prefer each other…you know, _intact_."

"Yeah, we definitely do," Nana said after a brief hum of contemplation. "Our bond helps, but we can still be shallow sometimes." She grinned, watching Popo taunt Toon Link from behind the safety of the sandbag. He kept poking his head out to make faces or say some quip, then ducked back behind to avoid a slash. "I probably wouldn't mind if he had a heroic scar, though. You know, like over his eye or cheek? Give him a little authority when he starts staring someone down."

Nana turned her head and saw a hint of a frown crease Ness' forehead. Her smile waned. "Hey, sorry about that," she mumbled softly. "We're gonna try to tone down our...well, everything."

Ness shook his head slightly, as if snapping out of a reverie. "Hmm? Oh, no, don't worry about that. Not now, anyway," He added with a soft laugh. "No, you just reminded me of something that I wanted to ask one of you about. When Popo came out to get the sandbag, I sorta got up in his face about how you guys were so hard to find. He then just sorta…just stared at us for a moment, like he was confirming how we felt. I uh, couldn't get a reading on him."

Nana raised an eyebrow, and brought her gaze back to Popo's antics. The Links now had him in some sort of wrestling hold, but Popo was defiantly trying to break out. He even had a hand outstretched towards Lucas, like he was trying to tag him in for help. Lucas was too busy laughing to take up the offer.

"Well, the Elder's been trying to groom Popo to be Chief someday, but I don't think he wants to. Whenever anyone asks him about it he just gets all grumpy. Not to say he didn't still learn a thing or two, though." She paused, looking skyward with a finger tapping at her chin. "I know he sat in on a bunch of disputes between our own people, and sometimes people from other villages. He was probably using some trick he picked up from that."

"When you say it like that, you mean like your cryomancy?" Ness asked, a note of concern coloring his words.

"No, no, nothing like that." Nana waved dismissively. "He just got really good at reading expressions, and some people are like open books to him. Like Link there—" She pointed to Toon Link, who had released the hold on Popo to keep the sandbag steady for Lucas's turn. "—he definitely wears his heart on his face. I wouldn't worry though, because it's just as easy to read Popo sometimes."

"Really?" Ness sounded more interested than that warranted. "What sort of tells does he have?"

"Ah-ah, that's a _secret_." Nana turned to wink at Ness and waggle a finger. "A secret learned only through living together for as long as we have." She paused, to haughtily toss her hair. "I don't think he'll let you swap places with me though. You wouldn't look good in pink, and stripes just aren't my style."

Ah, that was the reaction she'd been fishing for; Ness was all but choking, caught between laughter and gagging. The outburst was loud enough to where Toon Link and Lucas had stopped to take a look, but Popo and the other Link were still wrestling each other on the ground, unconcerned. In a one-on-one scenario, perhaps grappling with Popo wasn't the best idea, but the Not-Kokiri was holding his own alright enough.

Ness calmed down to speak his mind again, but it took a bit of time. "I'm gonna go with 'no' on that. Spend enough time cramming three guys onto a hotel bed and you find yourself glad to be sleeping alone. Of course, I don't think you two ever had _that_ problem, right?" He drew out that last word, smirking with a brashness Nana had been quite familiar with over the years.

Nana may have _said_ she and Popo were going to tone it down on the relationship stuff, but now Ness was just asking for it.

The natural blushes she and Popo featured on their cheeks often did them no favors when they were trying to be taken seriously, but in moments like this…

"Oh, so _that's_ why your face looked like a tomato when you left our place, huh?" She took on a scandalized tone, combined with a slightly darker flush of the cheeks. The second bit wasn't planned, but it didn't hurt. "If we had known you'd be sneaking around, maybe I should have locked the bedroom door!" She rested her hand on her chest, a hint of a glare crossing her features.

"What—no, nothing like that! I just picked the wrong door, that's all. You see, the bathroom's at the _end_ of the hall in my—" Ness started to explain.

"But if you absolutely _must_ know, Ness," Nana interrupted, refusing to give him space. "The answer is no, we don't have any trouble sleeping together. Of course, we only did it before for _survival_; sharing body heat and all that. Now it's just how it is. I don't think we can go back to separate rooms, though; I'm too used to waking up to find Popo stroking my—"

"Oh god, _please_ stop! I'm sorry!" Ness's shriek sounded so desperate, and he looked like he wished to be anywhere but here right now.

"—hair." She finished without missing a beat.

"…Hair." Ness repeated with a blank stare. His lips were locked in a frown, but his eyes were comically wide. Nana mimicked his face until he finally noticed and slumped forward with a huff.

"Sometimes I really hate you guys," he said, the smile on his face taking all of the edge out of his words. "But I did walk into that, so well played, Nana."

"I think I'm just gonna do that whenever people bug us about our private lives," Nana groused with gritted teeth. "Just gush and gush, until they get tired of it and leave. Maybe I can get Popo to help come up with something saucy just to overwhelm people." She gave Ness a little side-eye, a lopsided frown twisting her lips. "You think that would work?"

"Man, I don't know," Ness bit out after a moment. "I mean, it definitely worked on me, but you might try it on some creepazoid and then you'll get a stalker wanting to know more." He shook his head. "I'd just ignore it, if it were me."

"Hm, good point," She finally conceded with a soft growl. "Why _do_ people care about this so much, anyway? Don't they have matches to worry about?" She looked out towards the other boys, and felt a stab of pride—or maybe it was just a muscle cramp—at seeing Popo escape from Young Link's hold with relative ease. The two then stood, and caught each other in one of those 'I'm still punching you' kind of boy-hugs. Toon Link and Lucas had also stopped working over the sandbag. "I think everyone's ready to stop. Hit the showers and then meet up for food?"

* * *

"So Popo's stuck in bed with this…this fever that has him all loopy; which means our village wouldn't have our best representative in the event," Nana took a moment to take a bite out of her burger. Popo just had an odd little smile on his face, lidded eyes focused intently on his partner while he sipped his chocolate shake.

Lucas was listening intently. He'd wanted to know about the origins of the sandbag's namesake, and Nana seemed incredibly eager to spin a yarn for them.

"What happened next?" He asked.

"So we're scrambling to try and find a replacement, but no one's feeling confident at all. This is well before we'd started training villagers to do what we do, and as much as I hate to praise the _iteq_, he's a good grappler." She paused to take a sip of her soda. "So while the Shaman's trying to find someone—anyone—who's feeling froggy enough to try this guy, Kallik's happy as a clam. He's going on and on about how we'll either forfeit or he'll win, because then he'll have his pick of the girls to be his arm-candy for the evening's festival."

"That's…awful," Toon Link murmured, and took a bite of his chicken sandwich.

Lucas nodded his assent, folding his arms across his chest with a glare. "I…know I'm not from there, but I still don't think it's right for your girls to be treated that way." He wasn't _too_ surprised at the pangs of anger surfacing in his thoughts. He forced back some of the Ness-isms that were forming on his tongue, because he had a feeling the story wasn't over yet.

"It's a purely ceremonial thing, these days." Nana clarified. "Sit up together at the Guests of Honor table, have a dance or two…we're slowly moving away from it, though. If it makes you feel any better, most of the boys are actually pretty good about it. But then you get some of them reading the old stories about how it _used_ to be, so long ago, and they make a huge deal out of it."

Lucas used the minor distraction of eating his meal to tamp his anger back down a touch more, and motioned for her to continue.

"This event took place…maybe two, three months after we got back from our second time here?" She stole a quick glance at Popo, shrugging.

"Two months, Nana," Popo replied.

"Two months, thanks. So we're still relatively hot from our tournament run," Nana said with a wry grin. "So I run to Popo's half of the cabin, and I steal his blue outfit. Then I mess up my bangs a little bit, and then I just sorta…stagger out to answer his challenge."

"No way," Young Link exclaimed incredulously. "That actually worked!?"

"Sure did! He'd never met either of us before that, and I know now that the broadcasts from here weren't crystal-clear images, so he genuinely believed I was a sick Popo who was braving a fever. So the rafts take us out to the floating platform that's anchored in the middle of this super-cold lake. It's a square wooden thing, about three or four yards across, and unstable as heck to stand on. But the event dictates that we wrestle on it."

"So on the way out there, he's mean-mugging me and saying how it'll be my fault that he'll steal one of our girls. At this point, I'm just about ready to kick him where it counts just for that, but I'm pretending to be Popo, so I gotta be _patient_ and _boring_, so I let it slide." She ignored Popo's raspberry. "Then they give us the signal and we start grappling. Now in this event, you're not winning by pinning someone, or getting a submission, or even a point system like some martial arts thing; you win by throwing the other guy into practically freezing water. Discomfort _and_ humiliation, all rolled into one neat package!"

Popo simply snorted and took a big bite out of his burger.

"And while I match Popo in strength, we both have little techniques that let us beat each other, and this guy's not falling for mine real easily. I get him off balance a few times, he gets me off-balance a couple times; there's a lot of back and forth." A rather disappointed look crossed her features for a moment; Lucas figured that she probably felt the match should have been easier.

"It takes a while, but I get him real close to the edge of the platform." She held her hands about six inches apart from each other. "But somehow the hood falls off my head. And because I've still got the rest of my hair in the traditional braids, he easily sees that not only am I not Popo, but also a _girl!_"

Nana sat back and took a long pull from her soda, and set the cup down on the table. Without a word or a glance shared between the two, Popo had grabbed it and left to get her a refill.

Lucas was patient while he waited for Popo's return. The other three boys were not; they were quite literally on the edge of their seat throughout the sudden intermission.

Popo was nothing if not efficient though, as was Nana when the cup was placed before her. She continued after a short drink.

"Sorry about that. Telling this story always gets me parched. Anyway, Kallik is now _flipping out_, screaming about how we're not taking him seriously because a girl is his opponent. Even though _this _girl—" She pointed at herself. "—went move-for-move against him and still had him reeling. So I look back and nearly all the spectators from both villages are laughing, and the Elder and the Shaman are both facepalming. Buuuuut, no one technically said to stop the match, so I push him off."

Popo leaned back in his chair and covered his eyes with his hand, and shook with laughter at this. It was infectious, as Lucas and the other boys soon joined in. Ness composed himself first.

"That can't be where it ends. What happened next?"

Nana's smile shrank for a moment, but suddenly got wide and toothy. "Well, I got handed a punishment detail for bucking against tradition, officially. But the women pretty much covered most of it for me." Her face all but glowed for a moment. "Popo took care of the rest of the chores when he got better, _and_ he got into a hell of a shouting match with the Elder on top of that."

"It was the first time I'd ever raised my voice at the man," Popo grunted.

"You really got punished for that, Nana?" Lucas queried after a pregnant pause. "You provided a challenger; it shouldn't matter if it's a man or woman."

"Tradition," They deadpanned simultaneously. Lucas sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Believe me, we're starting to get tired of it ourselves," Popo stated with a wave of the hand. "As Nana said earlier, we'd started training people to do what we do, and that includes the women. Initially it was because we needed something to do when we learned we weren't coming back here. But then we started looking at the volunteers, and noticed an even split between boys and girls that showed up. So we started getting everyone building trust amongst each other, and encouraged partnerships."

"Like Peach?" Ness asked sardonically.

"You make that comparison again, and it'll get tragic for you," Nana declared in cheery singsong.

Toon Link finished off his meal and wiped his hands with a napkin. "You said something about there being several stories about this jerk. What else went down with him?"

"Aw, c'mon you guys," Nana whined, thrusting her hands wide. As she did, she'd plucked a few fries off of Popo's tray and deftly popped them into her mouth. Popo didn't seem to care. "We've already said so much about our lives; let's hear some more from someone else."

"Link—" Popo pointed at Young Link. "—start talking. We got a lot more years to hear about from you still. Surely you had more quests or _something_ since you've been gone..."

Lucas smiled as the conversation went on, drifting from subject to subject with little in the way of intermissions. He was worried about an awkward tension springing up from Ness's method of finding Nana and Popo, but fortunately the moment had passed. They'd probably resolve any remaining issues on their own time. The important part was that everyone was getting together, _and_ he got a crisp ten dollars from Ness!

If only he had a use for money where he came from…

* * *

_Author's Note: (12/02/2019) I liked how…most of this came out, actually! Couple notes about the last chapter: I experimented a bit, to see if I could write decently while keeping the word count to a specific number (6,666 including author's notes, for Chapter 6, and releasing it on Halloween? I couldn't resist.), and I feel like I'd succeeded in that endeavor. So I figure I'd reward myself by letting the word count for this chapter go nuts. _

_This go-round we get a little test to see if I could write out Lucas at all, and I feel like I'd just thrown out a bunch of tips my friend had given me to do just that. At least I didn't fall into my first trap of just making him "Sad Ness". I'll refine his characterization as I go along, since I kept it pretty light. I couldn't resist referencing another story I like that features the kid._

_I dunno how long I can make each post-chapter thank-you note unique, but at least know I'll never copy/paste a previous thank for your attention and feedback. Simply put, thank you for everything!  
_


	8. Chapter 8

They managed to hit the last set of poses in their entrance routine when the buzzer went off, heralding a voice and phrase they were quite familiar with by now:

"TIME'S UP, ICE CLIMBERS; CLEAR THE RING AND LET THE NEXT ONES GET THEIR TURN."

"Awesome! Thanks, Pat!" Popo called back to the Mii. He felt a giddy energy humming through his body as he and Nana exited the ring. The random applause, scattered across the forty some-odd Smashers sitting in the stands, tempered that giddiness with a surge of much-needed confidence. Their overall morale for these practices had been flagging for the past week or so; a byproduct of their struggle to iron out the last wrinkles of their routine over the past month and a half.

Finally, they had a breakthrough. Not only were they able to get the steps down on their very first try today, but every subsequent attempt as well! And since their actual routine lasted roughly a minute to a minute thirty, they had a comfortable fifteen or so tries to make sure they were set.

As he turned to give the all-clear to whoever was up next, he peered around to see who was clapping. Bowser Jr. and his cadre of Koopaling cohorts were definitely making the most noise, with a few of them waving hammers around while they whooped and hollered. There were a few others cheering, but many people were sitting further back from the front row, and the lighting wasn't as good beyond the first few rows. Popo squinted for a few moments, but he couldn't tell who or even where it was coming from.

Still, he couldn't resist a small bow before following Nana out of the side entrance, where they bid farewell to Pat with a genial wave of their hands.

Popo's muscles were tightening as he walked; no doubt physical manifestations of that giddy energy from earlier. He kept his eyes forward as they walked through the back halls of the Primary Arena, sidestepping carts of equipment that were still being set up, hopping over tangles of wires, and trying their best to stay out of the way of the Miis that were trying to control the chaos. Every so often, he would glance at Nana to see her practically vibrating with anticipation, all the way up to when they rounded the final corner leading to the locker rooms.

They must have had the urge to drop the casual act simultaneously, because they were all but instantly holding each other's hands as they bounced up and down together outside of the locker rooms.

"We did it! We did it! We-did-it-we-did-it-wedidit!" Nana squealed in an ever-quickening staccato.

"Yeah, finally!" Popo all but screamed out. He tried to say something else, but the rest of his words were drowned by a laughing fit.

After a few moments, they began to come down from their manic high. Popo, his hands still holding Nana's, spread his arms wide. The movement forced them to lean in towards one another, which presented the perfect opportunity to press his nose gently to hers. He closed his eyes while holding contact for a few seconds. In a sudden decision, he'd tilted his head to lightly brush his lips against hers before once again bringing their hands together and leaning back. As they reset positions, he opened his eyes to reap the reward of her blush and glowing smile.

"Why Popo, you _rogue_!" Her smile broadened, and her eyes had an approving glint in them. "Finally overcoming the whole public thing?" She disengaged their hand-holding stance, to lean back against the wall next to the door to the women's locker room.

"Way to kill the mood," Popo deadpanned. Mirroring her pose, he folded his arms over his chest with a sheepish smile. "You know, even though we've been away from home for nearly two months, it's still not easy. Honestly, I'm surprised I don't have a complex about it."

"I keep saying you need to let loose, Popo," Nana said in an encouraging tone. "We don't have anyone from home watching us and—oh, don't give me that look; I've seen how you're always glancing over your shoulder even when we're just holding hands!" Barking out a short laugh, she pushed off from the wall and crossed over to stand in front of him. "I'm not asking for us to suck face in front of the cameras, but…" She trailed off, appearing almost nervous. He fought the urge to look around again; no need to prove her earlier point.

He was about to say something when she suddenly thrust out her hand, smacking her palm into the wall next to his head. The sudden movement caused him to flinch and press his back flat to the wall's stone surface. While they were similar in height, he now felt… significantly smaller. She then leaned real close to him, her other hand pressing into the wall next to his waist. "But a little something here and there won't hurt."

"I think I can do that," He regained the smile he didn't even realize he'd dropped, and he gently hugged her. "Maybe we could become one of those...what's the word…Power-couples, yeah?" He started to lean towards her again.

"One step at a time, Popo. But I appreciate you trying; because if you resisted much more, I'd have you sleeping on the couch." She pushed away from him, but not before she tapped her nose with a fingertip. She then touched that same finger to his nose with a wink. "My nose can only stand so much of you right now. _Please_ take a shower before you meet me back out here?" Before he could respond, she'd already skipped away into the women's locker room.

Popo stared for a moment, before he tentatively sniffed his underarm. Well, when she's right, she's right.

A few minutes later found him under the refreshing, steaming water. Master Hand's overhaul of the shower facilities never ceased to amaze Popo. The last locker room was no slouch, sure, but these showers were a lot more generous with the water's time limit after the button was pressed—around a full minute or so of flow, _and_ it came out at the perfect temperature from the very first drop. There were also partitions installed between the numerous showers, which numbered thirty in all.

Popo thought about random subjects while he washed on autopilot. He was fully aware that they would still need another day or two to practice, just to make sure they really did have their routine polished. But right now, he didn't care about any of that. He wanted to get together with the gang or maybe order a special meal to celebrate their accomplishment. Above all that, he just wanted to relax. Maybe vegetate in front of the television and watch a movie or four.

After the shower, his wait for Nana in the hall wasn't too long. She emerged about five minutes after he did, securing her hair into a ponytail via a leather cord during the walk to the exit.

As they got used to the heat of these past couple months, Popo found himself feeling…conflicted. While he definitely felt more…complete in his winter gear, he _also_ liked seeing Nana in her new array of summer outfits. Back in the Icicle Mountain region, there wasn't a demand for much in the way of fashion; you wore what you needed, and what you needed was to be was covered and warm. Though in the warmest months of the mild season, there would be a fleeting time when more colorful displays on clothes would come out. But even the most daring hemlines of those dresses back home did not even come _close_ to a 'modest' sundress Nana was eyeing the other day in the department store. He had many thoughts about that dress, which ranged from 'I hope I get to see her wearing that' to 'I hope the gang doesn't see her wearing that.'

Popo didn't like that ugly, possessive part of his mind. He'll have to talk to Nana about it sometime, even if all she did was tell him he was being stupid. And he _was_ being stupid about this; these are good friends of his, not rivals in courtship.

It was late morning by the time they exited the building, and Popo was grateful for the cloud cover providing a respite of sorts from the scorching rays of the sun. Thankfully the shuttle service, which boasted on-demand service, was now available to transport Smashers to and from locations. They were content to walk on most days after practice, but today he was feeling accomplished. He gave Nana a nudge, and tilted his head towards one of the idling shuttle buses. She seemed to think on this for all of a half-second before nodding, and they began crossing the massive courtyard towards the squadron of transports.

They had taken no more than three steps before a boisterous, accented, and slightly raspy voice thundered from somewhere behind them. "HEY, CLIMBERS!"

Popo stopped short, teeth flashing in a broad grin. There was no mistaking _that_ voice.

As one, they turned towards the source of the voice and charged.

"DEDEDE," They roared simultaneously, launching themselves into the open arms of the enormous robed penguin.

King Dedede cackled as he easily caught Nana and Popo, spinning around and locking his long arms around them in a pair of headlocks. After a beat, he set them on their feet and stepped back with an equally toothy grin.

"Ah, heh heh heh! Hey, I never thought I'd see you two lil' munchkins ever again!" He narrowed his eyes as he gave them a once-over. "Well I guess y'all is just regular munchkins, these days. When'd y'all get so big?"

Popo smirked, crossing his arms across his chest. He could see Nana mirroring his stance. "Oh, hard work and exercise I guess. I could ask you the same thing!" He stepped forward and poked the obi stretched over Dedede's midsection.

"Aw, Popo, that's just mean. Why, I even shrank the portions in all ten courses of all six of my daily meals—I'm as svelte as ever!" He slapped at his belly with a rumbling chuckle. "Anyway, I'm glad y'all made it back. I've been gettin' these here flyers posted all over the place today!"

The corpulent king clapped his hands and two Waddle Dees, one carrying a stack of papers and the other holding a staple gun, stepped into view from behind him. The Dee with the papers stepped forward with an air of presentation, and Nana took one off of the top of the stack to read it aloud. Popo stepped back to look over it as she read, and he couldn't help a fond smile at the graphic of two mallets crossing over each other at the top of the page.

"'Batter 'em with a hammer? Then you matter! Join the Mallet Club today! Send inquiries to #39's computer for details.' This isn't bad, Dedede," She said with a nod of approval, and placed the flyer back on top of the stack. "Ness mentioned something about the Club being dissolved last season…any truth to that?" Popo nodded at her question, hand rubbing at his chin.

"That lil' runt thinks he knows ever-thin' 'round here." Dedede muttered, before continuing in a (relatively) clearer voice. "We was down, but not out; it was just as few of us as ever last time. Meanwhile, that there Band of Blades gets a ever-growin' pool of possible recruits with each new tourney."

"I heard a few things about that group," Popo mused. "Open collusion in matches; they constantly cover each other even in the Free-For-All battles…"

Dedede clenched his fists, before pumping one into the air in a triumphant pose. "That's right. But I got me a good feelin' about this time! And with you two back in the fold, I think we'll be able to hold our own!"

* * *

"Welp, it's official. Last month of the off-season and everyone's confined to the Housing District," Popo groused as he walked into their kitchen.

Nana paused with a quirked eyebrow, a spoonful of delicious sugary cereal halfway to her mouth. "For the whole month, right?"

"Yeah, they're giving the vendors from off-world the nod to start setting their stuff up so they can be ready for the tourists. And then when the first waves of tourists show up, he'll set up the Opening Ceremonies at the beginning of next month." He sat down opposite her with a grunt and folded his arms over the table. "I know we were told this was coming, but I'm worried the training we did wasn't enough, you know?"

Nana took a moment to finish delivering the spoonful of cereal to her mouth before nodding. She didn't want to lose one bit of the chocolate morsels after all, so she made sure to properly chew and swallow before speaking again.

"I think we're gonna be fine. I just hope they keep a bunch of those Security Miis close by; when everyone's jammed together with nowhere to go, I bet we'll have more fights breaking out. I wouldn't be surprised if we had people start up with us because they still held a grudge."

"Yeah, maybe it's best to avoid Fox or Falco at least, _just_ in case they can't let go of some of our matches in the past." Popo propped his chin up with a palm, frowning slightly. "If they try to start something, I'll probably just tell them to get lessons from Peach or…Meta Knight. Now that guy _really_ had our number."

"Yeah, but that was a fun feud. It's not like he had us _every_ time, but he did win more than he lost." Nana nodded and ate another spoonful. "No, I think if Fox and Falco were going after anyone, it's gonna be Wolf. With whatever between them two years ago, and that one fight we saw, they must have some real bad blood between them…probably not as bad as what's between Ganondorf and Link, though." At Popo's quizzical look, she quickly added. "Uh, Young Link I mean. Oh, Sila—it's gonna be hard to just say 'Link' when they're not around, isn't it?"

"We do alright when we're all hanging out, at least, but we have the benefit of actually _looking_ at the one we're addressing." Popo hummed in thought for a moment. "I think they're still touchy about it, deep down. Speaking of the Links, what do you think of the current Big Link?"

She blew out a puff of air, which trailed off into a quiet raspberry. "He's…actually not too hard to talk to, for once. Likes to eat, so you two should get along _swimmingly_, and he actually does a lot of climbing in his spare time. Knows how to swing a hammer too, but I don't think he'd give up his sword to join us." Nana took on a thoughtful look, squinting her eyes to look at an imaginary point on the ceiling. "Could you imagine the shakeup having someone like _him_ on the team would cause?"

"One can dream! It would definitely bring us a lot of clout." Popo nodded with a soft chuckle, before he got up to make breakfast for himself. As he began mixing together some boring oatmeal, he started talking again.

"Before I forget, Dedede finally got back to my message; the Club meeting's at noon today. We probably don't need to suit up, but we definitely need to bring our mallets. Think we should color-code, too; traditional blue-pink for a first impression?"

Nana hummed in agreement, content to sit back and eat in silence while she watched Popo make his food. Mallet Club business was always a great time for her, even if their meetings usually just turned into bragging about their wins or something cool they did on a given day (Game and Watch had to draw pictures to get his stories across). The rumor mill had always produced a number of theories about like-minded fighters banding together—in spite of the rule forbidding such pacts before—in order to rig a match. The idea of possibly being able to stand up to what the sword-wielders were allegedly doing, though…well, it sent a tingle of excitement through her, to say the least!

Nana finished her breakfast and excused herself to freshen up for the day and change. Once she had finished, she sat down in the living room to wait for Popo. She started to flip through random channels on the television, but nothing interesting was on in the morning-to-late-morning timeslots. After a few excruciating minutes of bland news programs, she turned it off and closed her eyes.

Footsteps could be heard landing on the floor above her, and she focused her hearing entirely on the rhythmic sounds. Popo was in the bathroom at present, unless he was in the computer room again? No…no, there was the flush. Step, step, step, the grind of a pivoting foot…and there was the sink's faucet. Roughly a minute later, the _very_ faint rhythmic sound of a toothbrush joined in with the running water. Good, good…Popo's fastidious adherence to hygiene was always an admirable trait in the boy.

Her eyebrows furrowed in frustration as she listened to his footsteps move from the bathroom to the bedroom. One foot was falling more heavily than the other.

"I _told_ him to keep up those stretches," She muttered to herself. Popo had tweaked his back a week ago—the day after they'd met up with Dedede—when he'd pivoted wrong to throw the sandbag during that day's combat training. Like a dope, he'd pressed on with the rest of the regiment and woke up the next day almost completely immobile. Nana had to dust off her chiropractic knowledge to get him righted, and while she'd succeeded, he still had to keep up his half of the rehabilitation…

The thundering of Popo's footsteps on the stairs heralded his entrance into the living room, and she opened her eyes in time to see him set his mallet next to hers by the front door. He all but skidded to a halt as he came into the living room, no doubt stopped short by the look on her face. A part of her was proud she could somehow intimidate him while wearing pink overalls over a white sleeveless shirt, but right now she was focusing entirely on not raising her voice.

"Popo…" she began, before stopping herself. No, no, that sounded _way_ too cold. She cleared her throat and took another run at it. "Popo—" Good enough "—what did I tell you after I straightened out your spine?"

"Oh, you could hear that…" How dare his guilty smile make him look so cute? Fortunately for him, it lessened her anger enough to where she wouldn't be _too_ rough in…assisting him in a very thorough stretch routine before they met with Dedede in an hour.

Lacing her fingers together, Nana stretched her hands outwards as she stomped right up to where Popo stood. At least he understood that he had no chance in outrunning her if he fled.

"Lie on your back, and try not to scream," Nana commanded, separating her hands and wiggling her fingers.

* * *

Dedede's abode in the Housing District filled the entirety of its assigned lot. The homes of his neighbors, Sonic and Olimar, appeared minuscule by comparison.

Okay, so Olimar's home looked minuscule in comparison to _everyone's_ house, save for Kirby's.

It wasn't a surprising sight anymore; Nana and Popo's row of neighbors consisted almost entirely of not-to-scale castles. At least Dedede's castle didn't have his face carved into the stone like Bowser's. The only personal touches here were the two windows that looked like angry eyes and the red pennants with yellow borders wafting in the breeze over the four inner towers.

Popo stared up at the tall door, resisting the urge to touch the small of his back. No, he wouldn't dare with Nana standing _right_ behind him. He actually was feeling better, despite Nana's tough love, but the post-care soreness would linger for maybe an hour. In order to give his hands something to do, Popo shoved one hand into a pocket of his blue shorts and knocked on the door with the other.

There was no response. Weird, since Dedede was adamant about the timeframe. He felt Nana's arm drape over his shoulders, and he momentarily flinched in shame before all but melting into her embrace.

"Hey, hey," she said soothingly. "I'm not upset with you; I just want you to be at your best." He let himself get turned around so she could press her forehead to his. "If you're a good boy though, maybe we'll hit the District's pool later on. You can even help me stretch beforehand—"

"_Alright_, ha haaa; maybe I just didn't knock loud enough," Popo interjected, possibly a bit too loudly—_definitely_ a bit too high-pitched—before he stepped backwards to all but instantly face the door. Yet again, Nana had him on the defensive, and he wondered just what would happen if he took up the little offers she'd thrown his way. He liked to think she would be thrown off-balance, but maybe just as likely to rebuff him? Maybe she'd even play _along_ with it? Where would it lead? The majority of his thoughts told him he was overthinking this; they shared a bed and _constantly_ woke up wrapped around each other, for crying out loud! The evidence was strongly in favor of just saying 'to hell with it' and marching forward. However, there was still a loud, single voice of doubt screaming its head off that he would ruin _everything_ if he made a move. Damn Harasen and damn those repressing mandates of his…

He couldn't even try to distract his mind with thoughts of Nana's little promise, whether she meant it or not. How could he even think of his lovely Nana, in that one-piece she'd bought on a whim last month, languidly reclining while he took a hands-on approach in helping her limber—nope, nope, _NOPE_.

Popo tried to mask over his internal strife with a nervous laugh while he undid the simple rope sling keeping the mallet on his back. He then swung said mallet at the door, with probably a little more force than needed. "You. Just. Have. To. Know. How. To. Knock." Each word was punctuated by a slam of his implement.

It worked! A few seconds later after the last slam, the massive wooden door opened by slowly sliding upwards like a portcullis. It revealed a Waddle Dee, which smiled—as much as a Waddle Dee could without a visible mouth—and waved for them to follow as it tottered off. Popo looked to Nana, shrugging and gesturing for her to lead the way with a flourish of his hands.

It may have only been a scale model of a castle, but it was still the largest home he and Nana had ever been in thus far, so of course he was going to stare. The Waddle Dee led them first to a large room—easily as large as their entire cabin—at the heart of the structure, and stood at attention before…an empty golden throne. As the group waited, Popo took note of some of the accoutrements of the room. There were lamps evenly distributed throughout the room, and a large curved television was held up to the throne's right by a bracket protruding from a large rectangular opening in the wall. The hole probably closed up when the set was put away.

This was getting a little awkward. The three of them had been standing there for a few minutes with no appearance by Dedede. The Waddle Dee didn't appear to be fazed by this, and Popo was not about to be outdone in the patience department by the creature that was thrown at him like a dang weapon. He slowed his breathing, and simply stared straight ahead at one of the decorative hemispheres on the throne's back-rest.

The Waddle Dee suddenly flinched, and turned to face them with a frantic wave of its stubby paw before dashing off to their right.

"Hey, wait a second—" Nana started to say before she took off after it, with Popo following close at her heels. They shot through a short hall, hooked left at a T-intersection, and their guide stopped to knock on a door. Nana, in her attempt to keep from colliding with the little fellow, skidded to an immediate halt, which forced Popo to run into her backside with a grunt. To prevent them both from falling over, he quickly wrapped his arms around her middle and planted his feet…

…Just as Dedede opened the door and took in this tableau. He just stood there for a moment, before his large eyes closed halfway and a smug grin crossed his blunt beak.

All Popo could do was blush furiously, quickly shake his head, and silently mouth "Please don't. Please don't."

"Well now! Heh heh heh! Always thought my place was good for one-a them romancified getaways, but I didn't think it'd work _this_ fast! Y'all need a room or somethin' 'fore I start the meetin'?"

Before Popo could deny, Nana's hand shot up as if she were trying to get a teacher's attention. "Yes, your finest room, please. I'm afraid you're going to need to postpone the meeting for at least a couple hours, though."

If he swung he mallet just right, Popo should be able to knock himself out. Maybe Dedede would do it _for_ him...

Dedede roared with that signature laugh of his, slapping his belly in rhythm with each 'heh'. "Dang, Nana! When'd ya get so sassy, girlie? Aw, this gonna be an interestin' day!" He then rounded on Popo. "Popo, don't ya _ever_ let this one go! I mean that in a figurative sorta way, a-course; you get offa her before ya go on in there." And with that, Dedede pivoted to walk back into the room, his hands clasped at his back.

Popo grumbled and Nana shook with barely suppressed laughter; the Waddle Dee was completely oblivious. It simply stared at them before it casually walked back the way they came. After probably too long, Popo remembered to relinquish his hold on Nana and attempted to smooth out his rumpled clothes. He said nothing, ignored Nana's snickering, and strolled in through the open door with his head held high.

The familiar sight of a conference room greeted them, not too different from the one they'd often commandeered in the Mansion last season. Two tables dominated the center, joined together to form a large T. Maybe it was meant to represent a hammer? Dedede was seated at the center of the lateral table, and a flanked by four empty chairs. The perpendicular table had six chairs on each side.

Dedede stood up and waved to them. "Welcome to the first meetin' of the Mallet Club, you two! Come on up and seat y'selves at the head table over here!"

Popo smiled and waved back, a perplexed look crossing his features for a moment. "Thanks, Dedede, but uh…are we the first ones here?"

"What? No, we—wait a sec." Dedede looked at the chair to his immediate left with narrowed eyes. He then reached over to turn the chair a bit.

Mr. Game & Watch simply…rotated into existence and rang his bell in greeting.

Popo smiled, offering up another wave as they approached the main table. "I forgot you can do that. Is that why we haven't seen you around until today?" Game & Watch gave off a series of short, harsh-sounding beeps; his equivalent of a laugh, Popo learned a long time ago. "So once the others show up, what's gonna—"

"POYOOOOOOO!"

The rapid pattering of feet accompanied that familiar cry, and Popo whirled around just in time to see Nana deftly catch the pink and red missile that launched itself at her from its hiding spot.

"Kirby!" she shrieked, spinning from the momentum of his impact. After a couple rotations, she managed to adjust how she held the puffball, now cradling him in her arms. "Aw, did you miss us?" she cooed, gently ticking his belly and being rewarded with giggling and a flailing of his stubby limbs. "We missed you too! Yes, we did!"

Dedede came around the tables to join them, a broad smile on his face. "Yep, that lil' guy was plumb excited when we said y'all was back." He chuckled then. "When Lucas came back last season, everybody thought y'all had a shot too, but I guess it just didn't happen. Well, y'all is here now, so let's see who else shows their face!"

As Dedede ambled back over to his seat, Nana absently started tossing Kirby into the air, catching him with ease and repeating the process while she spoke to Popo. "I forgot Lucas came in late. I guess he just never brought it up, but I wonder what happened there." She caught Kirby once more, and held him up under his stubby arms. "Still the tournament's favorite little baby I see…it's gonna be real weird when you grow up!"

Popo moved to stand next to Nana, reaching over to pat the babbling puffball on the head. "What's weird is how he just suddenly gets so…capable when it's time for a scrap." He turned to Kirby. "Are you hustling us? I think so!"

"Poyo!" Kirby chirped with a smile.

A loud cacophony from somewhere inside the castle gained everyone's attention.

Dedede grinned, spinning in his chair a few times. "Heh heh heh, I think we have some new members rollin' on in here! Ever-body grab a seat at this here head table; we gotta leave a good impression!"

* * *

Nana quickly sat in her assigned chair next to Popo's, setting her mallet head-down on the floor to her right, per Dedede's instructions. They patiently sat to the right of the mighty monarch, while Kirby and Mr. Game & Watch sat to his left. Dedede pressed his palms together, and held them in front of his beak while resting his elbows on the table. She and Popo leaned back and folded their arms over their chests.

She had barely settled into position when the door flew open like a burst dam, allowing Bowser Jr. and his band of Koopalings to surge in; the unlucky Waddle Dee escorting them all but flattened in a miniature stampede of green, blue, pink, and orange hues. Their coloring wasn't the only loud part about them; they were chattering, laughing, and in a couple cases, slapping each other around in their approach. She'd seen this rowdy mob as a prominent feature during the broadcasts of the last tournament, and she was rather surprised to learn they weren't already members of the club.

They stopped at the end of the table perpendicular to the head table, arraying themselves in a line with Bowser Jr. at the table's edge. Nana squinted and straightened up in her chair; was there someone behind them?

Dedede cleared his throat loudly, somehow managing a regal presence in his cushy office chair. "Allow me to welcome all y'all to the very first meetin' of the Mallet Club! Before we kick off this here hootenanny, I want everyone to present their identifyin' armaments!" He reached down and grabbed the handle of his mallet, and held it overhead with one hand. Nana followed suit, Popo only a split second ahead of her action.

There was a moment of hesitation at the other end of the room, before the chaotic Koopa Troop leaders quickly formed into a huddle and started whispering among themselves. Every so often, one of them would straighten up and look to the head table before ducking back down. On the plus side, at least _someone_ had listened to the order; a small hammer rose up directly behind the group, confirming Nana's earlier suspicion. It was an odd-looking one, featuring a red head attached to a yellow handle. It almost looked like a toy…

"Well? What's takin' y'all so long? Show us whatcha got!" Dedede thundered, slamming his unoccupied fist onto the table with a loud thump. "Somebody back there's tryin' to join and y'all is holdin' up the processification!"

They conversed for a few long seconds after Dedede's demand, though now there was a frantic edge behind the voices. They finally broke their huddle and fanned out into a line formation once again. After a moment of hesitation, they finally produced their weapons. The boys all held up crude, but effective-looking hammers. The girl, however, was holding a silver rod with a round purple orb affixed to the end. Whatever it was, it definitely wasn't a hammer.

Dedede was equally confused. "Wuzzat ya got there, girlie? That don't look like no hammer to me!" He pounded his fist again, which seemed to incite some laughter from the boys of that group. The girl had a defiant spark in her blue eyes now, and her chin rose haughtily while her (very) full lips pulled back in a sneer.

The hammer behind them stayed in view, and didn't waver; whoever was back there was a patient sort.

"This," she drawled, "is an inert wand. It hurts just as much to get smacked with this—"

"You can say _that_ again," muttered the shortest of the Koopalings, running a hand through his multicolored mohawk.

"—as it does with any of their hammers." She finished, throwing a pointed glare at the one who interrupted her. She'd snapped her gaze over so suddenly, the large bow on her head continued to wiggle for a full minute after she'd stopped her explanation.

"You could say this is more of a scepter," offered another of the boys, this one with a head of voluminous blue hair that looked like it was styled on top of Icicle Mountain on a windy day. "Sort of like…a mace, I suppose."

"A scepter, huh?" Dedede stared at a spot on the table for a moment, stroking his chin with his free hand. "So why the heck is y'all carryin' hammers while she swings around that scepter?"

The face of yet another boy lit up at Dedede's question, this one had a tall shock of green hair—not unlike the turnips from back home—that he certainly didn't need to stand taller than the rest of the group. He had wild, freaky eyes behind his glasses, and he seemed to be constantly fidgeting as he tried to restrain his laughter.

"Easy—heh heh—question; we were told to pick, and everyone—ha, ha, ha—wanted a hammer _'cept her_."

Nana groaned, slumping back into her chair with a shake of her head. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Popo smirking.

Dedede was stunned; his mouth hung open, and his eyes were wide as saucers. After a moment, he started repeatedly slapping the table as he burst out into laughter. "Heh heh heh, ''cept her,' he says! That's a good one!" Composing himself somewhat, he brought his raised hammer—gently—onto the table, like a gavel. Even the 'soft' swing produced a bang that sounded like the report of cannon fire.

"Alright, alright, we'll figure somethin' out with your scepter thingamajig. Everyone have a seat, and we can get down to business here!" Everyone at the head table finally set down their hammers at that, following Dedede's example.

Bowser Jr. and company quickly nodded, scrambling into the available chairs. Their movement revealed the final mystery applicant: A small yellow dog woman dressed in a pink gingham vest over a white blouse, and a purple skirt. For some reason, the band holding her hair up had a bell on it.

She'd barely settled into her chair before Dedede pointed right at her. "Hey, I recognize you. You was one of them assistants last time, izzat right?"

All eyes turned to this newcomer, who blushed so powerfully it was seen through her fur. She spoke in a chipper, yet firm voice. "Well, I haven't exactly _stopped_ being an assistant," she stated with a giggle. "I take it you're talking about the matches?" At Dedede's nod, she continued. "Yes and no; I wasn't _actually_ here. After the Mayor and his friends were brought in last season, a group of technicians showed up in our village. Most of them were tasked with linking up everyone's TVs to watch the tournament, giving out loose schedules, et cetera, but a few were just kind of…looking around. Eventually they had approached me and asked if they could put me in as an 'Assist Trophy'. I agreed, and they had me stand in this weird open-air machine that 'scanned' me in to their computers, and that was it."

Dedede scratched his head in silence for a moment. "Well, that checks out. I remember hearin' reports about some weirdos pokin' 'round town not long after I left to come here. Wonder how they got that pipsqueak Knuckle Joe to agree to it... Anyways, welcome aboard! I say we run through inner-ductions and then we'll have lunch!"

Everyone shouted their assent, and began introductions from the far end of the table on up to those seated at the head table. At least now Nana had names to those who spoke earlier: Wendy O. Koopa, Lemmy Koopa, Ludwig Von Koopa, and Iggy Koopa in that order. The last applicant was Isabelle. Nana wasn't exactly sure what to make of her; her cheery, nonthreatening demeanor might make her a target of pranks from the Koopas within the Club, and who knows how many others outside of it. But the more Nana thought about it, she and Popo look less threatening next to the average, and Kirby looked the least threatening next to…well, anyone. If Isabelle was brought in as a competitor, it was for a good reason, and she shouldn't have any more pranks played on her than anyone else.

If Isabelle _was_ ever targeted in malicious pranks, Nana would make sure she and Popo paid back whoever was doing it.

After Dedede ended things with his introduction, he pressed a button that signaled for fourteen Waddle Dees to come in bearing covered trays of food for everyone present. Yes, even Mr. Game & Watch. He…ate?

Nana absently worked through her meal, a filling helping of curry and rice, while listening to the conversation flow around. Eventually Dedede, his mouth full of food, started talking again.

"Now Wendy," He began before washing the food down with a long swig of juice. "Y'ain't gonna use a hammer at all?"

The girl Koopaling sighed, taking a look at her polished claws for a moment before answering. "No, I've really come to like my scepter. Is that going to be a problem?" There was a challenging edge to her voice, enough to visibly rattle Isabelle's cheery demeanor.

Unimpressed by her tone, Dedede paused his food consumption to fold his arms over his chest. "Yeah, this is the _Mallet_ Club. Not 'Scepter Club' or 'Wand Club'." Dedede first glanced at Kirby and Mr. Game & Watch, then over to Popo and herself, the look on his face broadcasting loud and clear that he was demanding solidarity.

Fortunately, Popo seemed to be already on the case; he held up a finger as he finished his bite of food before he jumped into the conversation. "I remember seeing you guys in action last season. Didn't your Clownmobiles—"

"That's 'Clown Cars', dingus," Bowser Jr. muttered into his food. Nana began testing the weight and balance of her fork as she gauged the distance to where the little whelp sat...

"—Clown Car, sorry," Popo amended. He reached back and plucked Nana's fork from her hand. In response, Nana folded her arms and stuck her tongue out at the back of Popo's head as he pressed on. "Anyway, don't they come equipped with mallets of some kind? Like when you grappled opponents, you would smack 'em around with that instead of using the hammers you actually swung around?"

Wendy nodded for a moment, before her eyes widened in realization. "Wait, that counts?"

"I think it should. Whaddya think, Dedede?"

Dedede folded his arms and nodded with a serious look on his face. "Yeah, reckon that's fine. Even if we didn't find that lil' loophole, we woulda figured out somethin'." He leaned over and tousled Popo's hair with a grin. "That was some fast thinkin' there!"

Wendy leveled a long look at Popo. "Yeah, you're _pretty_ smart, Popo," she finally said with a wink and a smile.

"Oh, uh, thanks," Popo muttered, quickly averting his eyes to stare at his meal. After a moment, Wendy also resumed eating, occasionally making snippy chitchat with one of the stockier boys—Roy, if she recalled.

Nana's full attention was on the girl Koopaling now, and she ate slowly while she pondered the situation. A scene right now was not something the Club needed; she had a strong feeling that Miss Wendy O. Koopa was part of a package deal here. If she left, the boys would surely pack up and leave as well. Maybe; the bond between these eight was a strange one, but it wasn't a risk worth pursuing.

Nana decided that the best course of action was to not throw her spoon.

* * *

Popo's sudden loss of appetite disappeared almost as quickly as it arrived. One second, he didn't feel like eating the first course offered up by the Waddle Dees, and then the feeling passed. He didn't know how it happened; only that it did. While he worked through the dessert course, Popo turned to Morton in hopes of striking up a conversation with the bulky Koopaling.

"I thought you guys would've already been members by now. What happened last time?"

Morton's reply was delayed due to a current focus on scarfing down his chow, but eventually the stout fellow answered. "Thought we could be own crew. Did okay, but they had more. Heard they have even more now, so _we_ must need more." He shrugged with an annoyed sigh.

Larry piped up after a moment, slowly reaching over to pat Morton's broad shoulder. "Hey man, we might be able to rally this time! We're fourteen strong, and that should keep us on an even footing even if they outnumber us still!" He grinned, blue eyes flashing.

Popo noticed Larry was holding a rigid posture throughout the meeting, and never seemed to look down beyond a certain angle too many times; he just looked so uncomfortably stiff. Every so often, Larry would look over in Popo's general direction, and then snap his gaze straight ahead. Popo witnessed this three more times before he got bored with observing it and turned his focus to the rest of the people here. Everyone was chatting amiably—even Isabelle was included, which Popo was admittedly worried about at the onset.

His ruminations were interrupted by someone calling his name. He looked up to see a Koopaling in pink sunglasses—Roy, as he recalled—waving him over. He was a bit far down the table running lengthwise to the room, and Popo didn't feel like yelling, so he got up and strolled over to flop into the empty chair next to the brutish-looking boy.

"Hey Roy, whatcha need?"

"I don't need nothin', but thought I'd give ya a warnin'," With a smirk, Roy jerked his head over to indicate Larry, who was still looking towards…wait; he was looking at _Nana_ the whole time? Only now his attention was completely focused on her, instead of constantly looking away. It still didn't explain his posture, though; in fact, he was looking even more wound up.

"I think he likes her," Roy said simply, popping a cupcake into his mouth and chewing obnoxiously loud.

"…There's a lot to like," Popo admitted with a shrug. He was surprised at how well he was taking this. Not long ago, he might have gotten angry or withdrawn about such a revelation, but it was probably because he felt Larry wasn't much of a threat in this instance.

Roy was staring hard at him. After a moment, he sat back and adjusted his sunglasses. "Tch. Was kinda hopin' ya'd get all puffed up and start somethin'."

Popo slouched in his seat and folded his arms with a grumpy expression. "What, you have a file on me or are you just testing the waters?"

Roy guffawed, lightly slapping Popo in the back. Even that 'light' slap made him lurch forward to where he had to grab the edge of the table to keep his position stable. "Hah! Yer alright, Popo!" His expression sobered after a moment. "Still, ya oughta look out all the same. Larry thinks himself a Casanova, and he'll pour on the flirtin'. But I've watched him put moves on the chicks before, so ya might not have anything to worry about..."

"Well right now, he seems scared to even make…eye-contact…" Popo trailed off for a moment, as a thought occurred...

Propping his feet up on the table, Popo leaned back far in his chair and stared at Nana until he gained her attention, using the other Koopalings as cover from Larry's potential line of sight. Smirking, he gestured to his eyes with two fingers, and then nodded to his right. At her quizzical look, he rolled his eyes and made a few more gestures. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Roy looking at him with an unreadable expression—well _any_ expression would be unreadable with those sunglasses.

"Don't say anything; just watch Larry," Popo said quietly without looking away from Nana or stopping his hand signals.

After a few moments, Nana nodded in understanding, and Popo removed his feet from the table so he could sit up and watch the plan unfold.

Popo smiled with glee as he watched his partner slowly turn and meet Larry's gaze. Time all but froze as Larry's eyes nearly bulged out of his head and his mouth hung open. Nana, to her credit, maintained an air of neutral-to-congenial boredom; to anyone else, she only happened to be glancing in his direction.

A few things happened in rapid succession: Larry suddenly reared back and threw his spoon onto the floor, squeaked out an "Oh, clumsy me!" and practically dove under the table to retrieve it. A few annoyed grumbles could be heard as he searched under the table for his 'missing' utensil. A few moments—and a couple of thumps from underneath the table—later, he re-emerged with his hair flattened and disheveled. Snickers broke out among his immediate neighbors, Bowser Jr. and Morton most notably. Popo watched as the former leaned in to say something to Larry, who immediately looked panicked and put his hands on his head.

"Aw crap," Larry loudly groaned. "Crap, crap, crap." From somewhere within his shell, he'd produced a comb and began to frantically fix his hair back into place. Popo let out a low whistle as he watched the guy lock his hair back into position in only a few seconds. Finally appearing satisfied, Larry went back to eating his meal without looking at anyone.

"His hair's his pride and joy," Roy rumbled with a chortle. "Cost him a few matches before. On his very first day, he refused to look down during his fight; dat Little Mac snuck one right under his chin and sent him packin'." He then turned to face Popo, the light glinting dramatically off of the right lens of his sunglasses. "Dat signalin' thing ya did was really cool, though! How'd ya do dat?"

Popo nodded with a wide grin. "We've been through a _lot_ of stuff over the years. We've developed so many ways to communicate with each other; sometimes they overlap and trip over one another." He laughed, reclining in his chair. "So tell me, what do you think of this Mallet Club idea?"

Roy shrugged his broad shoulders, one corner of his mouth lifting in a lopsided frown. "I don't like dat we have to form a gang at all. But if they're doin' it, we may as well too, ya dig? Guys and gals think they have the run of the place, but I think an 'Awakening' is in store for a few of 'em." He let out a loud laugh, shaking his head as if he'd just told a great joke. "Lookin' forward to bustin' some heads with ya guys!"

After a while of socializing, Dedede had eventually set up a schedule for future meetings before adjourning. After everyone went their separate ways, Popo found himself strolling through the streets of the Residential District alongside Nana. Their destination was ultimately home, but he was content to meander for a while. Without thinking about it, he took a loose hold of Nana's hand and lightly rubbed his thumb over hers.

"So whatcha think of the Club's first meeting?" he queried, once he felt they had traveled far enough away from Dedede's place.

"I think the only part I didn't like was the table setup," She replied with a shrug. "Too much like something I saw on television in one of those boring law shows. I think a circular or square setup would at least make it easier for everyone to talk to each other."

"Good point, though I'd definitely miss some of the antics that we had today. Thanks for obliging my little request, by the way." Popo laughed with a hand over his stomach. "

"Was _that_ why Roy wanted to see you? I should give him a piece of my mind; my radiant beauty is for _all_ to admire," Nana stated with aplomb, with her free hand lightly touching her chest. "Still it was funny watching that guy panic just from being looked at." She joined in his laughter and leaned into him while they strolled about.

"Yeah, well…" Popo muttered with a small shrug. He couldn't think of anything else to add, so he just kind of let himself trail off.

"…Well, what?" Nana pressed, stopping in her tracks and holding tight so Popo was forced to also stop. "C'mon now, out with it."

Popo let out an overly-dramatic, put-upon sigh when he realized she wasn't going to let him go until he answered. She was even breaking out the old 'How can you resist this adorable face of mine' tactic he hated so much. Well, hated that it worked, anyway.

With a soft chuckle, he raised his hand between their faces to block further effects. "Alright, you win. I was just...maybe feeling greedy about sharing that radiant beauty, that's all."

When Nana didn't respond for a bit, he moved his hand slightly to look at her eyes and immediately snapped it back to the original position with a surprised laugh. Somehow, she'd made her already weapons-grade adorableness become even _more_ adorable! "Gah, _stop_ that!"

"You reject my gift, boy?" Nana wasn't laughing, but he could still hear her grinning as she spoke. "You wound me, Popo!" He felt her hand grip the wrist of his shielding hand, before she guided it so his palm was resting on the side of her face.

In a stunned silence, Popo caressed her face and her hair. Judging by how she leaned into his touch, Nana seemed content to let him do it for a while before she finally spoke in a soft voice. "You see what's going on here, right?"

He thought for a moment. "Uh, I'm touching your face?"

She rolled her eyes. "Popo, how can you be considered Chief material—"

His dramatic sigh was genuine now.

"—and be so _dense_? Rub my temple please," she added with exasperation. Popo did so, and Nana rubbed at her other temple with her free hand. "Alright, so the difference between everyone else bearing witness to my looks and _you_, is that _you_ get to do more than just _look_ at it."

"Oh." He continued to rub at her temple for a few more seconds before the weight of her words caught up to him. Eventually he stopped, blinked, and blushed. "Oh! Well I, uh…I guess you're right!"

"Of course I am," she quipped, finally stepping back with a proud smile on her face. "That's why you're gonna name me Advisor or something that sounds equally important when you're running things. But that's for later." She twirled around and started to walk up towards the front door of their home. "For today, I believe I said _something_ about going for a swim."

Popo watched her go with a wistful sigh, a surprising variety of thoughts bouncing around his mind while he stared. Yes, he was looking forward to that swim, of course; he was also feeling…prepared for the next month's passing. He and Nana had their friends all back together, their training was paying off (they'd have to at least continue the jogging regiment to keep up their stamina), and the Mallet Club numbers were bolstered. All in all, it was the perfect beginning for the final stretch. When the tournament started, they would be ready.

* * *

_Author's Notes: (01/02/2020) As I've sat here writing and editing this chapter, I often check the stats of LSiDfCS so I can see the views I've been getting over the past month. Holy CRAP, December had a LOT of hits (for me anyway)! You all humble me, and I thank you all for sticking with me through these trying, overly-wordy times._

_Dubbed Dedede is the best character on the show. That is all._


	9. Chapter 9

The data flowed across the screen of the tablet computer at a near-breakneck pace. Most of it reported on the status conditions of various systems. Ambient temperatures, water pressure, electrical power readings, and many other reports were keeping the display active. Fortunately, these were largely static conditions that didn't require input, but they were important enough to require ready access to in case a disruption occurred somewhere.

If a light bulb so much as _flickered_ in any of the arenas, Maxwell would know about it.

Every so often, queries requiring his input would pop up. Minute little adjustments kicked up the proverbial ladder until it landed in his lap. Fortunately, he was created with the capacity to handle the workload, which could admittedly be a lot worse; these were just last-minute clarifications. The bulk of the work had already been finished over the course of the last month, and Maxwell was fairly sure the workers were looking for something to occupy their minds.

Maxwell sighed and refrained from voicing that thought as he denied the latest query. There was no need to shift the posts of the rope barriers _again_.

"Something wrong, Maxwell?" Master Hand asked from the massive workstation to the Mii's left. The giant appendage didn't stop his rapid typing, but Maxwell still felt his gaze…somehow. The other Miis in the Main Control Room didn't look up from their tasks, for the large glove conversing with his personal assistant was as regular as the sun rising.

"I don't think the worker teams quite understand the concept of 'work complete', but I recall a similar sentiment during the _last_ Opening Ceremonies, so…" Maxwell shrugged as he trailed off, his eyes absently scanning over the latest report; this one stating that the pest control system was in nominal condition. There shouldn't even _be_ any pests, but the decisions on things like flora, fauna, and weather patterns were out of his jurisdiction. That was all Crazy Hand's territory, and he demanded such uncontrollable elements. The only concession _he_ allowed was that the weather be clear during major events like this.

Speaking of Crazy Hand…

With a few presses on his tablet, Maxwell pulled up displays detailing the sound and lighting readouts. "How have the microphone, headset, and speaker tests performed?"

Master Hand typed for about a minute before he responded. "Yes, that's right; you were trying to resolve that situation where the Security Team found a guest snooping around the Residential District. The audio has been performing properly. Crazy's microphone had a little hiss, but our engineers were able to get that smoothed over. Speakers have been tested and checked in triplicate. Broadcast uplinks are also showing that they're ready to go." He paused for a moment, surprise written in his posture, before continuing with an amused tone. "This is a strange role-reversal…usually I'm the one pestering _you_ for updates."

Maxwell chuckled, skimming through another report. This one was about provisions distributed to the concession stands. "Apologies for overstepping my bounds, sir; the more I know, the more chaff I can prevent from requiring your attention."

The giant hand hummed in thought for a moment. "You make a sound argument. This…should not be a surprise, considering your abilities." A laugh sounded from nowhere, and the hand started typing again. "Are the transports ready to bring our competitors to the Arena tonight?"

"Ah, yes sir," Maxwell stated, swiping over to the pertinent display on his tablet. "Shuttle buses in a variety of sizes are ready to bring the Smashers in through the north vehicle ramp. Per your orders, the windows of the transports' passenger areas have been tinted to one hundred percent opacity from the outside. The route from the Residential District has been planned to pass by the spectators still waiting in line outdoors." He tapped the display a couple more times. "Once they reach the drop-off point in the arena, Gerald will take the veterans to the Red Side accommodations and Pat will bring the newcomers and those returning from absences to the Blue Side."

"I see…" Master Hand punched a few keys, and the image of a schedule was projected into the air. "Please confirm this for me."

Maxwell pulled up his own schedule, and stood beside his creator's desk in order to see both spreadsheets simultaneously. "Let's see what we have here. At six o'clock in the evening, we start the broadcast; static image card to be replaced by a countdown timer at six-thirty. At seven sharp we have the video package, followed by in-house pyrotechnics. Cameras will pan around the crowd—as will our spotlights—and our crews will switch between several different cameras for dynamic cuts of the spectators. The static camera will not be in use during this time. After the spectacle ends, the broadcast announcer teams will start welcoming the viewers at home and hyping up the presentation for the night."

Master Hand bobbed his fist in a nod, and gestured for Maxwell to continue.

The Mii adjusted his gold glasses and scrolled through the schedule. "Crazy Hand will make his appearance and run down the new features of the tournament, hyping up the crowd as best as he can in between each breakdown. New match styles, new items, and most of the new simulacra to be featured in the Assist Trophies and Poké Balls. He will then talk about most of the new stages, with videos about them playing on the in-house monitors as well as the broadcast."

He took a deep breath he didn't need to take before continuing. "Following that, we have the veteran Smashers making their individual entrances. We start with Mario, and end with Bayonetta." He then held his tablet close to his face. "Am I reading this right? Epsilon Counterparts are coming out after, and not alongside, the veterans?"

"All but the two that already fought last season," Master Hand clarified. "I have been informed that since the rest of them are new arrivals, the introduction order should be changed accordingly." He drummed his fingertips on the desk for a brief moment. "It technically does not throw off the schedule, and it ensures their inclusion has an impact if they have a separate appearance."

"I see now," Maxwell hesitantly assented. "As far as I can tell, the rest of the written schedule appears to be in order, so I think all we can do from here is wait and see what happens."

Master Hand was silent for a few moments, lightly tapping his thumb to each fingertip in rapid succession. "It's a long time for the spectators to sit through, I admit, but I think there's enough variety in the information being presented that their attention will be held until we start parading the Smashers out for everyone to see. From there, we should have everyone's attention for the rest of the program."

Maxwell set the tablet down on his desk and smiled up at the glove. "I know you've been purposefully avoiding reviewing the footage of their entrance rehearsals, which surprises me. I think you're going to be in for a pleasant surprise with what everyone put together. There's a wonderful variety of presentations; ranging from short and simple to lengthy and elaborate, with everything in between. There's been a considerable amount of time allotted for all of this." Maxwell hesitated for a second. "Which I suppose doesn't matter, since we own the channel, the venue, and the equipment."

A low chuckle resonated from the disembodied hand, and he resumed typing on his keyboard. "Indeed, but we would like our attendees to not be sitting there for five hours straight." A large index finger was pointed at the last bit of the schedule, which was empty. "So let us review how we are going to close out tonight's broadcast…"

* * *

If Popo was sitting down, both of his legs would be doing that annoying bouncy thing. Instead, he was constantly shifting his weight from one foot to the other as they waited outside for their designated shuttle to swing by and pick them up. Nana attempted to ignore the shuffling as she went over the gear they were bringing to tonight's spectacle. Unfortunately for her, no matter which way she turned, at least one of her senses would be tuned into his movement. It was a crucial skill to have when climbing a mountain, but a touch annoying in this specific situation.

Not that she was in any position to blame him; she was just as nervous as he was.

"Have you seen it come by yet?" He inquired, constantly sweeping his gaze up and down their street. Nana was immediately reminded of their first climbing expedition together. He'd insisted on standing guard when they made camp, even though most animals weren't dumb enough to move around Icicle Mountain at night. His nervous posture as he constantly surveyed the approaches to their tent was the exact same display he was putting on now, height difference notwithstanding.

Shaking her head and smiling, she walked up and hugged him from behind. "If you didn't see it, then I sure as heck didn't! Just _relax_, Popo." As he turned to look at her, she pressed the side of her face to his, delighting in the feel of their cheeks squishing against one another. Already she could feel him slacken in her arms with a happy grumbling sound.

As she held Popo, Nana looked in the general direction of the District's entrance, which was off to their right. As her gaze moved along, she caught sight of their neighbors who were also waiting to be picked up. Bowser was the easiest to spot, muttering to himself as he struck up facsimiles of poses and then nodding. A little further down she saw Peach and Daisy conversing. While they chatted, Peach was looking straight at Nana with an expression she couldn't read from this distance, but if Nana was a betting girl, she figured it had to do with the computer message she'd received a couple days ago; there was going to be a 'girl's day out' planned, on a day still to be determined, but definitely sometime after tonight's Opening Ceremonies.

Even though Popo was supportive, Nana had reservations about going. She just wasn't sure how well she fit in with the other girl Smashers. After thinking about it some, she decided that no one was really alike and eventually sent a reply saying she'd be there. She didn't know what to expect, but whatever happened, it would be a far cry from the Women's Circle doldrums back home; generally a lot of banal gossip while they performed mindless domestic tasks, whenever Nana happened to have time to join in.

Further reflections were (thankfully) halted when a low rumbling sound cut through the proverbial fog. Looking for the source of the noise, Nana grinned when she spotted the first of numerous transports moving through the road that connected the ends of the District's different streets together. She knew Popo was also now aware of their arrival, when she felt him become a little less limp in her arms. Planting a quick kiss to his cheek, Nana released her hold on him and stepped back towards their gear bags.

"Keep an eye out for our ride; I'm gonna do a quick check to make sure you didn't forget a mitten or one of your crampons." She knelt down near their luggage and started rifling through the compartments. "Remember, they said the one coming for us is the S-7 shuttle."

"Right, S-7," Popo echoed with a nod, and he returned to his sentry role. "How're you feeling about our entrance? I suddenly feel like I've forgotten what to do tonight…"

"I feel you, but I know how diligent we've been," Nana said, quickly verifying the contents of their bags with her mental checklist. Fortunately, there was no need for almost any of their actual climbing equipment, so they had no need for their pitons, extra ropes, tent, bedrolls, canteens, or rations. Not that they brought any of that here except for their canteens. "We've probably done at _least_ a hundred runs, and even squeezed in 'safety' sessions after we'd perfected it." She hesitated, taking the time to close up their bags. "Am I gonna have to hug you again just to keep your nerves down?"

"If I need an excuse now, then yes," He laughed nervously while he watched the end of their street. Once vehicles started to come their way, Popo's vigilance increased. Nana had to try _really_ hard not to laugh at how his face lit up upon seeing one drive along their side of the street, only to deflate with dejection once it drove past. Less than a minute later though, their lift finally pulled up to the curb as Nana was tossing Popo's bag to him.

The vehicle was the same as the on-demand shuttles they'd used from time to time two months ago, but this one had a special paint job to match the exterior of the Primary Arena: white with black accents—even the windows were painted over. The bisected circle logo was painted in red over the rearmost windows on the sides and back of the vehicle. There were also some weird lights at the corners of the boxy passenger hold, spinning inside red transparent casings. The brown-haired Mii at the controls of the vehicle waved genially, a broad grin flickering into view as she pressed the button for the passenger hold to open.

"Hello, you two! Hop on in and we can get this show on the road!" She said in a cheery tone. "I'd suggest you take the left side for the best view as we loop around the Primary Arena."

Nana and Popo said their own hellos and took a seat in the back left of the passenger hold, with their bags resting in their laps. The moment they'd settled into their bench seat, the transport smoothly disembarked. Their pilot was skilled in threading the vehicle through the light traffic, and could be heard communicating with who Nana assumed were other drivers via a radio system.

Popo scratched under his nose with his thumb as he stared out the window. "Wonder why this one's not as large as the others... I understand some are needed for the bigger Smashers like Bowser or Donkey Kong, but," he pointed out the dimmed window to one of the vehicles they were maneuvering around. "That one's got a lot of people already in it, with room for a lot more. Doesn't make any sense…"

His question was partially answered when their small bus stopped in front of the habitat that housed Pichu. The door opened, allowing the creature to scamper aboard. It stood in the aisle and peered around curiously before Nana leaned out from behind the cover of the seats in front of them and waved to get its attention.

"Pi," it squeaked cheerfully, dashing the short distance and hopping into Nana's lap.

"Hey, little buddy!" Nana chirped, scratching behind Pichu's kite-shaped ears. "You ready for the big day?"

"Pichu!" it stated with an enthusiastic nod, small arcs of electricity sparking off the pink circles on its cheeks.

Popo's hand slowly moved into view, and he hesitantly scratched under the chin of the pokémon. As Pichu tilted its head up to allow this, the vehicle lurched with sudden acceleration as it departed towards the next stop. Spooked by the jarring motion, Pichu quickly pulled itself onto Popo's hand and ran up his arm to nervously cling to his shoulder. Popo remained as still as he could, clearly worried about accidental shock.

Eventually they both calmed down; Popo didn't get zapped, and Pichu got some pets and scratches. Nana frowned as she looked out the windows on the right, watching their vehicle settle in position in front of the lot that held (Young) Link's strange tree house.

Once again, the door opened and Link stepped aboard. Being significantly taller than Pichu, he had no trouble in spotting the climbers and slid into the seat in front of theirs. He took a moment to set his sword, shield, and a small bag of what Nana assumed was a change of clothes onto the seat beside him and before turning around to kneel on it and face them.

"You know," He began, resting his arms on the back-rest of his seat. "If I didn't know better, I'd say they were giving us our own private ride."

Nana nodded with a very small shrug. "I won't complain; I'm willing to take the special treatment at this point. If extra spending money and these little favors are their way of apologizing, then who am I to stop them?"

Link nodded, lazily reaching out to join in on Popo's doting on the Pichu. "Hey, if it means not having to ride with _him_, I'll take it."

It didn't take a genius to know who Link was talking about; the various hero incarnations suddenly finding themselves having to share a space with the one negative constant bridging their lives together must be troublesome. This was just one of the perks to having no real enemies of their own—it's not like the condor was living in their home or anything!

By now, the pilot had turned onto another street in the Housing District. They pulled to a stop before a lot with a cabin set towards the back, and a number of pine trees planted in front. It was similar in appearance to Nana and Popo's place, but the wood was darker. There was also a steel and concrete building attached to the west end of the cabin. Snake, who was patiently waiting under one of the trees, had just stubbed out his cigarette before he shouldered his duffel bag and strolled towards their vehicle. As he came aboard, a knowing smirk crossed his lips and he took a seat on the right side of the transport.

"Riding in style, separate from everyone else," Snake rumbled in that trademark gravelly voice of his. "You know if we do this _every_ time we go the Arena, I could get used to it."

"If they stock this thing with snacks and drinks from now on, they've got a deal," Popo said with a smile. There were no other shuttles on this street yet, so theirs was free to drive along the sidewalk until it stopped two lots over in front of a modern-looking home. It looked a touch more advanced than Ness's abode, but not by much. Standing curbside were the two Pokémon trainers, Red and Leaf, who wasted no time in hopping aboard.

"Hey," Red simply said in a soft voice, and he took his seat next to the passenger area's door. Everyone knew engaging him in conversation was an exercise in futility, so Nana didn't seek out any further pleasantries. Not that they didn't get along, or anything; she and Popo knew what it was like to not be particularly engaging. Besides, his friend Leaf had taken it upon herself to be his mouthpiece, whether the champion trainer wanted it or not.

"Is that all you're gonna say, you jerk?" Leaf huffed as she twirled into the closest seat behind Red. "Hello everyone; don't mind him," she said in a much friendlier voice to everyone else. Red simply rolled his eyes and went through his backpack for a bit before locating a water bottle and taking a swig from it.

As the vehicle started to move again, Nana switched between idle conversation with Leaf and Link, and occasionally stopping to pet Pichu after it had leapt back into her lap. Within a few minutes, they picked up Wolf—who grunted a gruff greeting and promptly took a seat in the front left across from where Red sat—and their pilot happily announced that everyone was accounted for before turning their transport back towards the entrance to the district.

There was a bit of a kerfuffle as the pilots communicated in some sort of code-talk over their radios; Snake and Wolf seemed to perk up at the muffled chatter, but whatever they'd heard was either not important enough to relay, or indecipherable. After a few minutes of nothing happening, the vehicles started to drive out of the Housing District with theirs at the very end. The caravan of various-sized buses traveled along the winding road at a pace that could be best described as casual, and the curve of the road sometimes offered the passengers a lovely view of the Primary Arena off in the distance.

The sun may not be setting for a couple hours yet, but the Arena's exterior was still lit up like the borealis back home. Each side of the octagonal, colossal structure had white lights trained on it that turned it into quite the beacon even at this distance. On top of those highlighting beams, there were smaller spotlights waving to the skies in every color of the spectrum, repeating several times that she could see. Those lights moved in a series of different patterns, ranging from waving side to side to crisscrossing with opposing colors from fixtures on the opposite side of the structure. A mesmerizing sight from here, and Nana felt no shame in pressing her face against the glass next to Popo's to stare upon it. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Link doing the same.

Another turn took the building out of sight, but it would show up bigger and brighter a few more times until they were ground level with the massive structure. Their train of vehicles slowed and started towards a line of barricades. More importantly, it started towards the massive throng of people behind those barricades. The shouts and cheers were near-deafening as they were slowly driven alongside the barriers, and Nana found herself seeing spots due to the flashes from cameras going off in such close quarters; her vision spared only by the tinted, one-way window.

After a few minutes of riding alongside the masses, the line of vehicles disengaged by turning away to the right. They did a slow, lazy loop around to the north side of the building, and descended towards their destination via an access ramp. Upon disembarking, the gathered Smashers had time to mingle for a bit before the next part of tonight's itinerary came up. Nana, along with Popo, took up idle conversation with their usual group, and she sometimes caught snippets of similar chitchat from others near them. A triumphant shout from Dedede had drawn her attention, and she turned in time to see an annoyed Daisy counting out a stack of golden coins before depositing them into the smirking penguin's outstretched palm. With a shrug, she'd turned back and carried on her conversation before the amplified voice of a Mii cut through the din and gained everyone's attention.

"Alright everyone," Gerald shouted from his perch on top of a couple of stacked crates. "Showtime starts in a little less than an hour, and we don't have much time here; so Pat and I are going to escort you to your designated staging areas. Everybody that fought in the last tournament will come with me, and the rest of you go with Pat. Thank you!"

There was a low rumble of assent from the gathering, and the groups went their separate ways. Nana spotted the other group leaving into a red hallway while their route had a blue theme.

"Don't worry about memorizing the way around, folks," Pat was saying as he floated ahead of the group. "We only use the red and blue sides for the Opening Ceremonies, and you'll be back to the regular locker rooms next week. Of course, you won't be using the main entrance to get there now, but we'll go over the new route..."

By that point, Nana tuned him out and took stock of the people she was walking with. She knew about most of their ragtag group; she'd seen just about every one of these folks at rehearsal practice, meandering around the Housing District, at the pool, or Mallet Club meetings in Isabelle's case. However, that left two of them unaccounted for: Dark Samus and Ridley. The former was a complete enigma, silently staring straight ahead as she—they?—floated off to one side of the group.

And the latter…

Nana tried her best not to gawk at the hunched-over…winged…creature stalking along on the other side of the group; she _really_ tried, but ultimately could not stop her eyes from shifting to Ridley. He did not speak, but she could see him bobbing his head from time to time as Pat continued talking. His head and eyes were constantly darting about, and she definitely made eye-contact on several occasions. Others had likely _also_ locked eyes with the beast, if they were giving him _that_ wide a berth. The only exception to this rule was the wild-eyed reptile, King K. Rool, who apparently had no issues walking within arm's reach of whatever species Ridley was. Walking directly ahead of her, she could see Popo performing the same routine of constantly glancing over and then quickly averting his gaze.

Unfortunately, she didn't have the opportunity to talk with her partner about her thoughts, as she suddenly found a paper of tonight's introduction schedule pushed into her hand. Before she could even glance over it, Pat was utilizing a small squadron of worker Miis to herd everyone into their designated locker rooms to change.

She'll just have to talk to Popo about this another time.

* * *

The noise of the fireworks faded, the house lights were killed, and an eerie silence accompanied a black screen. A murmur spread throughout those attending before a single spotlight pierced the veil to capture a giant, left-handed white glove.

Crazy Hand waved, showing off the black cuff around his wrist, which was adorned with golden company logo cufflinks. He then snapped his fingers, and a silver, cylindrical microphone was lowered from the ceiling. With a flourish, he grabbed the hanging mic by its stem.

"Welcome, one and all, to our latest season of… SUPER! SMAAAAAAAASH! BROTHERRRRRRRRS!"

The sound of the crowd was probably loud over the monitor Popo was watching, but it was drowned out by the deafening roar of the live capacity crowd that couldn't be more than ten or twenty feet from the comfortable room they were all in. He took a series of deep breaths in an attempt to calm his nerves, which yielded at least partially successful results. For the nerves he couldn't soothe on his own, Nana was there to cover the rest; the palm she'd rested over his chest helped to slow his hammering heart, for one. He took a swig from her offered bottle of water and swished it around in his mouth before swallowing to ease his suddenly dry throat.

"Thanks, Nana," he said while watching Crazy Hand talk about the features to expect from their tournament. Some interesting new match types; one involving a team of three or five battling it out one at a time, and an oddly…traditional(?) style where combatants fight until one cannot get up. The second one intrigued Popo the most, and he wondered just how something like that would play out, or even be received.

He'd turned away from the videos showing the Original Twelve demonstrating the new items to take a look around their room. The two proverbial polar bears in the room—Ridley and Dark Samus—were lurking in the back of the room, with the former casting a withering glare at those who approached, and the latter just silently staring at whoever drew near. The Inklings were watching another monitor with rapt attention, quietly chattering among themselves in their garbled language.

He'd seen the Inklings sauntering around from time to time. They seemed friendly enough, but he always felt…judged in their presence. They were unabashed in how they always gave him and Nana once-overs, but Popo never knew—or dared to ask—why. It was the same situation with Ness, Lucas, and the Links whenever they talked to the squid-kids.

He swept his gaze over the rest of the room's occupants, and saw everyone was just sort of doing their own thing. Snake, Chrom, and the Belmonts were chatting amicably; the last two were constantly looking at Wolf, Isabelle, and the Inklings. Young Link and Pichu were hanging out with Red and Leaf, who had their Squirtle and Ivysaur out respectively (the Charizard was off with the veterans). Eventually Wolf joined up with Snake and the others, and the Belmonts quite obviously settled their hands on their weapons; Wolf had responded in kind, though neither party made any move to escalate the situation any further.

Ken kept to himself mostly, shadowboxing while watching a monitor with keen interest. When someone approached him though, he seemed rather friendly and casual. Popo had a suspicion that he and Captain Falcon would get along.

Incineroar was an…interesting pokémon, to say the absolute least. Intense attitude towards the adults, but its personality would absolutely flip when it was around younger people. Popo smiled at the memory of when he and the gang first approached the big pokémon; a photograph of him and Nana being held up on Incineroar's shoulders would be a fond treasure, and a reminder of future fights with the fiery show boater.

K. Rool kept to himself, his posture and expression seemingly caught somewhere between saying 'go away' and 'I _dare_ you to come near me'. Popo immediately did not like the guy.

Isabelle and Daisy had grabbed some refreshments and joined Popo and Nana on the couch they had commandeered to watch the event. Isabelle looked nervous, but somehow confident at the same time. Daisy just looked plain confident; Popo thought that nothing could shake the woman's resolve.

"So how do you kids feel?" Daisy inquired as she flopped down beside Nana. "Ready to get out there and bask in the glow of your adoring fans?"

Nana sighed, hugging Popo with exaggerated tightness. "_I'm_ ready, but I don't think he is. Don't think I've ever seen him this nervous since he first conf—"

Further words were cut off by Popo's hand firmly covering her mouth, but he smiled in spite of the gesture. "I thought we were saving that story for Peach's interrogation. Can you imagine the hell she'll put us through if she's not the very first to hear it?"

Daisy cackled, one fist pounding on the couch's armrest. Before she could say anything, a suddenly loud shout from the crowd drew everyone's attention towards the monitors, as Crazy Hand once again appeared on the screen.

"I think they're going to introduce the veterans now," Isabelle hedged, leaning forward and rubbing her paws together.

"Now, I know what everyone's _really_ here to see," the glove boomed, without its usual behind-the-scenes warbled inflection. "This is, of course, merely a formality—I've been informed that everyone is here. But without further ado, would you like to see this season's Smashers!?" The crowd roared again, and the camera switched to shots of various spectators in various states of rabid excitement. "Well then… HERE…WE…GOOOOO!"

Crazy hand let go of the mic and spun around to point at the red ramp and entrance.

The crowd went silent as the music began. It started with a drum heralding a heavy brass ensemble, building to a crescendo. When a woman's voice started singing, Mario, clad in a fancy white suit and tall hat, made his appearance with a small hop and a big wave to the cheering crowd. He strolled down the ramp at a casual pace, turning every so often to wave at the raving attendees. About halfway to his destination, he broke out into a sprint. When he'd reached a point about eight feet from the ring, he jumped to the air and landed in the middle of the ring with a spinning display of acrobatics. Immediately upon landing, he tore away the suit to reveal a lab coat and stethoscope over a shirt and tie. Tossing away the tall hat revealed the doctor's mirror. With a rapid spin, he'd discarded _that_ outfit as well, finally revealing the trademark blue overalls, red shirt, and signature red cap to an appropriately grand ovation.

As the final pose was struck, Crazy Hand had grabbed the mic again and made an announcement in his sonorous voice.

"Introducing first…from Brooklyn, New York, weighing in at 98 units… He is the Number One Superstar of the Mushroom Kingdom…the Renaissance Man who just can't get a break: MARIO!"

The crowd continued to voice their adoration, while Mario leapt out of the ring and took a seat in a special area just behind the ringside barrier.

The music changed and Popo turned towards Isabelle. "You ready for your big debut tonight? I remember watching the other Villagers last season…" He trailed off, noting her nervous posture.

"Hm? Oh, as ready as I'll ever be, I guess! I'm afraid I have a lot to live up to though; they did really well when they hit their stride, but I've never fought before." She laughed meekly, seeming to shrink a bit.

"I think you'll do just fine," Nana piped up, leaning forward to turn a smile towards Isabelle. "Remember, you're here for a reason. And that reason is that Master Hand saw something special in you. If someone questions you, you need to assert yourself!"

That seemed to assuage the dog woman's nerves, and Popo turned his full attention back to the monitor. By now, Kirby was stepping into view, accompanied by a swell of triumphant music. He'd only taken a couple of steps towards the ramp before he produced his Warp Star and started to fly around the arena. He went _high_ too; making sure even those up in the furthest seats got an up-close view of the puffball. Once he'd hit an open area at the upper portion of the arena, Kirby began to perform a series of aerial stunts which included everything from loops to skimming just barely over the heads of the crowd. All of these maneuvers built up to a corkscrew dive back towards the ring below. After coming to a smooth landing on the canvas, he dismounted the Warp Star and waved his stubby little paws to the chanting fans.

"From idyllic Popstar, weighing in at 79 units… He is the Heroic Pink Demon of Dreamland: KIRBY!"

Another eruption of cheers emanated from the crowd as Fox came out. Popo threw his head back at this, closing his eyes and feigning an obnoxious snore. Isabelle shushed him, which he took as a sign of her confidence returning. He still couldn't bring himself to really care for Fox, though. Pikachu's entrance was dynamic and energetic at least, and Luigi's paranormal-themed introduction was engaging.

Next up was Ness, and Nana and Popo both leaned forward to observe. The psychic's music hit, and he stepped onto the stage with his head held high and arms raised to the sky. He summoned up four PK Thunder bolts, one at a time, to spell out N-E-S-S before twisting the last one around to propel him forward. As he landed, he started running faster and faster towards the ring until he'd disappeared in a flash of light, only to suddenly appear in the middle of the ring with a similar flash. Still sprinting, he quickly pivoted so that his back bounced off the ring ropes, and he used the momentum to send him running in the direction he previously came from. He forced himself to a dead stop in the center of the ring, and dramatically pointed his bat towards the crowd. He repeated this pose three more times in the other cardinal directions, allowing spectators to take photos from every angle.

"From Onett, weighing in at 94 units… He is our resident PSI Powerhouse who loves to sling fire around: NESS!"

Popo and Nana both cheered at this, not caring if anyone was looking over (they weren't). They'd tried for a while to get Ness to talk about his entrance routine, but the boy had been really tight-lipped about it. Maybe he thought they would copy it, but Ness probably just wanted to keep his display a surprise. Regardless of Ness's reason, Popo was left feeling impressed.

The next several entrances were rather neat affairs, Daisy got a real kick out of the boos that Bowser's grandstanding garnered, and Popo would look over his shoulder to see Link scowling at Ganondorf's relatively simple entrance. Mewtwo's entrance was rather impressive, with how he'd teleported to stand on each ring-post in turn, allowing for snapshots from everyone in the arena. How strange that _Mewtwo_, of all beings, would have a sense of showmanship.

A couple Smashers later and a rhythmic song consisting of harsh beeps began to play. The moment Mr. Game & Watch slid into view ringing his bell in the air, Popo suspected that those noises were from the Smasher himself singing along to the admittedly engaging rhythm. Every few steps he took down that ramp, Game & Watch would rotate his body so that a different camera had a chance to capture his image. Upon reaching the ringside, he launched himself high into the air and began lobbing bombs in every direction he could, timing his landing so the ensuing explosions surrounded him while held up a flag with a number 1 on it.

"From Superflat World, weighing in at 74 units… He is the vintage, gavel-wielding Master of Two Dimensions. Be prepared to be judged by MISTER…GAAAAAAAAME AND WAAAAAAAAATCH!

"How do you even see him, anyway?" Daisy leaned forward and scrunched her face up in concentration. "He's so flat; I don't think you can see him coming…"

Popo leaned back into the comfortable couch, crossing his arms and legs as he thought about the best way to put it to words. Fortunately, Nana was able to cover for him.

"They highlight him when he's in matches, but I remember constantly leaning to the side to get a better way to gauge his attacks." Her lips twisted a bit. "He's really hard to read even when you _can_ see him though."

"It's just something you get used to," Popo added with a firm nod. "Working on a team with him is a lot harder, because you can almost never tell if he's setting something up for you to follow through on, or sometimes he accidentally gets in the way."

It was a bit before anyone else he and Nana were invested in was slated to come out, so they'd settled into idle conversation. Pit and…Dark Pit came out side by side, the latter looking incredibly annoyed to simply be there. A few entrances later saw Diddy Kong concluding his comedic, yet high-flying introduction. According to the schedule, this meant another one of their friends should be coming out.

Music set to a quick, catchy cadence heralded the arrival of Lucas. He took slow, careful steps as he moved onto the stage with a shy wave to the roaring crowd. A bright, genuine smile crossed his features before he summoned up…a table? As he knelt upon the table, the piece of furniture immediately took off at a gallop down the ramp. Three-quarters of the way to the ring, Lucas sent a PK Thunder arcing out behind him to propel him high into the air, towards the lighting system scaffolding. The cameras all panned upwards to catch Lucas's flight and descent, and cleverly kept the table—which had leapt into the ring—out of the frame until Lucas landed in a standing position upon it. Folding his arms, he remained perfectly upright as the table ran around the inside of the ring for a few laps, before he smoothly dismounted to the outside to a thunderous roar of approval from the crowd.

"Hailing from Tazmily Village, weighing in at 94 units… The Tazmilian Devil who came completely out of Nowhere: LUCAS!"

Popo grinned at the display of balance, while Nana let out a series of sharp whistles.

"I have no words for this," was all Popo could manage to say after a bit.

"I do; that was so _cool!_" Nana exclaimed, pumping her fist out and nearly slugging Daisy with the motion.

The brief exchange was enough for them to miss out on Sonic's entrance, which didn't necessarily bother Popo all too much; it meant another Mallet Club member was next in the queue.

King Dedede's theme hit, and the penguin never looked more regal as he made his way to the ring. Lounging on a palanquin supported by four Waddle Dees, he rode in style. In his right hand, he held his massive hammer in a vertical position. In his left hand were a few golden coins he regarded with a smug expression. When the camera zoomed in on his face, he looked straight at it with a toothy smirk, flashing the coins before deftly pocketing them and waving to the crowd with the now freed appendage. Once the palanquin was brought abreast of the ring's apron, he stood up and used the top rope to vault into the ring. He ran back and forth a few times, smoothly pivoting with each turnaround by slamming his hammer into the ground. Coming to a stop in the middle of the ring, he held his hammer high to whoops and cheers before exiting towards the side-seating.

"Fighting for Popstar, topping the scales at 127 units… he is the Self-Proclaimed King of Clobbering: KING DEDEDEEEEEE!"

Daisy scoffed, flicking both hands in a shooing gesture towards the monitor. "The nerve of that guy, rubbing that bet in my face..."

"It looked like you gave him a lot of money; what was all that about anyway?" Nana asked.

"A stupid argument that got out of hand," Daisy grumbled in reply. "He was bragging about his Waddle Dees, I was doing the same for Toads… We'd turned it into a bet to see which would win in a fight. Long story short, the Waddle Dee won, and I later learned he did the same thing to Peach last season."

Popo laughed as he nodded. "I didn't think much of those little guys either until Nana and I kept getting them literally thrown in our faces."

"I don't think he's gonna live that down," Nana joined in his laughter as she spoke. "Hey, quiet a sec; that was R.O.B. just now, and I think the paper said Link was coming out after."

The rapid strumming of a stringed instrument, accompanied by quickly clacking castanets, kicked off the introduction of (Toon) Link, who leapt into view as a pan flute started playing. Taking a deep breath, he remained on the stage just outside of the entryway and pulled out his conductor's baton, the Wind Waker. A rhythmic series of swishes was performed and a gust of wind started up from behind him. He then ran forward, rolled on the ground, and took a tall leap into the air. At the apex of the jump, he brought out a large leaf, and glided towards the ring. Upon touchdown, he rolled forward again, positioning himself at center-stage to quickly spin with his sword out before striking a heroic pose facing into the wind. As he exited the ring to take his seat, many in the crowd stood up to shout "'HOOOOOOOOY!"

"Sailing in from Outset Island, with a cargo load of 91 units… he's the Hero of the Winds: TOOOOOON LIIIIINK!"

"It took him forever to get that approach right," Isabelle mumbled, hugging herself with a small shiver.

"Yeah, I heard he only left like, three-quarters of his rehearsals under his own power," Nana replied with a sympathetic grimace. "He probably shouldn't have tried to work through that one concussion…"

With a glare, Isabelle snapped her gaze from the monitor, which showed the Villagers circling over the ring on their strange rocket devices. "He was _concussed!?_ He should know better than that. Of all the…"

Popo largely tuned out the woman's ranting, relying on Nana as a cue to nod along as he watched some of the other competitors come out. It's not that he didn't agree with Isabelle, but Link was incredibly stubborn about doing things his way.

A smile came over his lips as he watched Little Mac, clad in a hooded satin robe, make his way to the ring. The boxer was accompanied by Doc Louis and they were surrounded by a ring of unarmed security Miis. When Popo briefly met him, Mac turned out to be a really nice guy, and was surprisingly humble when he talked about his previous accolades. The Smash Bros. tournaments, Popo mused, probably humbled a _lot_ of folks…

Popo hadn't realized he was zoning out until he felt Nana's elbow repeatedly digging into his side.

"Wake up Popo, another Club member's coming out!" Nana exclaimed, pointing to the monitor. A brief shake of the head and he brought his full focus to watch the action.

A slow, ominous beat was played on what sounded like large war drums before horns started to join in. As faster drumming replaced the previous rhythm, Bowser Jr. floated out in his clown car vehicle. He grinned at the camera, quirking a bushy orange eyebrow before he took his hammer in hand and pointed it dramatically towards the ring. While the crowd cheered at this gesture, the other Koopalings drove out and around him in similar cars with wheels attached. Larry, Morton, Wendy, Iggy, Roy, Lemmy, and finally Ludwig had zipped by an unmoving Bowser Jr. before he'd converted his own vehicle into a wheeled mode and took off after them. Before long, they were circling the arena, incessantly revving their little engines in time with one another. In the same order that they'd driven out, the Koopalings began to eject from their vehicles at specific intervals. Larry, Wendy, Iggy, and Lemmy all landed on separate posts at the corners of the ring, while Morton, Roy, and Ludwig landed in the center. Bowser Jr. ejected last, landing in the waiting hands of the three stocky boys in the center. The final touch was the perfectly-timed brandishing of their hammers (and scepter) to a raucous ovation.

"Representing the Koopa Kingdom, at a combined weight of 864 units… they're the Commanders of the Koopa Troop, those Machiavellian Machinators of Mayhem: BOWSER JUNIOR AND THE KOOPALIIIIINGS!"

"Holy crap," Popo said after a long pause and a series of stunned blinks.

Nana slumped in her seat, letting out a breath she'd been holding without realizing. Unfortunately, she didn't have time to offer her thoughts on the presentation, for Pat had suddenly opened the door and poked his head into the room.

"Alright people," He began with a smile blipping onto his face. "It's time to get you all into position for your debuts!"

* * *

Ness was quite amused as Bayonetta wrapped up her routine, using her long legs to easily step over the top rope before making her way down to the last available seat for the veterans. Apparently the crowd didn't forget her string of victories in last season's final tournament; nearly two-thirds of this assembly seemed hell-bent on booing the Umbra Witch out of the building. At least she took it well, stopping every so often to make gestures that seemed to say 'yes, more of that please'.

"Not even Ganondorf got a reaction like that, and he's _actually_ a bad guy!" Ness said, raising his voice to be heard over the crowd.

Lucas looked up from the paper schedule in his hands, grinning broadly. "They're just saying what most of us here are thinking! She practically walked through that event, at least up until that last fight with Samus…though that one was still a fast match."

"I wonder who's going to be coming in later on," Toon Link interjected from where he sat behind Ness and Lucas. "Some of the newcomers we have now already sound scary enough!"

Ness nodded, before looking up to where Crazy Hand was floating and gesturing. When it was time for a presentation, that glove sure knew how to put on a show. He had just wrapped up his speech, galvanizing the crowd with a palpable anticipation as he pointed to the blue ramp and stage, which lit up in response.

"Bring on the newcomers!" Crazy Hand boomed into his mic. "Let's show the masses that, yes indeed, EVERYONE IS HERE!"

A hush fell over the crowd before tense riffs started belting out over the sound system. Dark Samus made her(?) appearance, and what best could be described as 'confused applause' spread throughout the arena while she floated down towards the ring. Languidly, she looked over the packed crowd, and wherever her gaze landed seemed to temporarily silence the clapping. She gracefully leapt into the ring and passively…floated there and looked around. After a long, painfully awkward minute, the Phazon-infused anomaly tilted her head and leapt back out of the ring to take her seat on the opposite side of the veteran's seats.

"Floating out from the Phazon Mines of Tallon IV, at 108 units… A living embodiment of the Phazon substance who, quite frankly, freaks even _me_ out: DARK SAMUUUUUS!"

Ness didn't realize he was leaning forward until Crazy Hand concluded his announcement. He remembered seeing this one before… However, there was a significant difference between the simulations of an Assist Trophy versus…this. A glance to Samus herself told very little. The helmet of her power suit was the only thing in motion as she tracked the movement of her doppelganger.

"Well, that's gonna give me nightmares," Lucas deadpanned. "She's so _creepy._"

Ness began to inquire further, but Lucas cut him off with a wave and pointed towards the newcomer entrance again.

An upbeat, sporty, and somehow regal theme filled the arena. As this happened, a retinue of Toads with blue spots on their white caps marched down the sides of the ramp. There were ten pairs in all, and they pivoted to face one another in unison. These fungi folk (fun guys?) brandished scimitars—unlike the spears held by Peach's Toads earlier—which they crossed over the path. One by one, each pair raised their swords to point to the ceiling as Daisy drew near. Also unlike Peach's more modest way of entering the ring via the stairs, Daisy leapt up, grabbed the top rope, and flipped into the ring before striking up a peace sign to cheers and the occasional wolf-whistle. Upon hearing the latter, she placed her hands on hips and shimmied with a wink.

"Competing for Sarasaland, measuring out at 89 units… She's the sporty, chipper, royal pain-bringer: PRRRRRRINCESS DAISY!"

Alright, this got the crowd back on track. Ness let out a (non-wolf) whistle while Lucas was applauding.

Link nodded along to the music, one finger waving with the rhythm as he spoke up. "I heard a lot of people were demanding for her to be brought in."

"Yeah, that's what I heard too," Ness said, before turning to Lucas with a grin. "I also heard she can bail you out if Peach ever corners you. We don't want a repeat of last season, right?"

"…Shut up, Ness," Lucas grumbled, folding his arms over his chest. "Peach wasn't even the worst part of all that and you know it."

Still grinning, he shrugged and turned his attention back to the entrance and settled in to watch.

Soft, yet uplifting tones began to flow through the air, and a murmur of confusion began to spread throughout the crowd; this was quite a departure from the previous themes. A male chorus started to sing along with the instruments, and that was where Chrom timed his appearance. Setting off down the ramp at a leisurely pace, he addressed the spectators as if he were marching in a parade; all smiles, waves, and really high stepping. After a while, he came to a dead stop in front of the ring and folded his arms, sweeping his gaze towards the ceiling. In a sudden motion, he unsheathed his blade and took to the air. He performed two quick flips and came down fast, fluidly rolling forward before standing up with a confident pose before the cameras.

"From hard-to-pronounce Ylisse (Did I say that right?), weighing in at 98 units… He's a Prince, that descendant of the Hero King: CHROM!"

"BOOOO!" Dedede jeered from somewhere beside them, which prompted a laughing fit from all three boys.

Lucas was the first to recover, shaking his head slowly. "Yet another person for Dedede's group to look out for…"

"That's why I won't ever get involved with them," Link muttered.

"Hey, that's probably for the best, especially now that Nana and Popo are back," Ness stated with a nod. "I'm surprised they never asked you about it, now that I think about it…"

Link was spared from having to respond, as the next Smasher in the queue was coming out.

Now _this_ music was much more fitting. Ken immediately ran out, pausing on the stage to do a quick display of punches and kicks, followed by a really cheesy grin and thumbs up. Taking in a deep breath, Ken booked it down the ramp and leapt onto the ring's apron. From there, he jumped onto the top rope and performed a leaping uppercut—wreathed in flames, no less—towards the scaffolding of lights overhead. At the apex of this maneuver, he simply grabbed hold of said scaffolding. As a camera zoomed in on his face, he flashed another cheesy grin and thumbs up combination, and yelled "I DID IT!"

"From…it just says 'United States', folks… with a weight of 103 units behind each of those strikes… The Crimson King of Martial Arts with the hands of fire: KEN MASTERRRRRRS!"

A wave of laughter spread throughout the arena, supplemented by applause. Lucas was holding a hand to his forehead, shaking with poorly-suppressed laughter.

Crazy Hand floated around the mic for a bit, waiting for the crowd to die down. "Give it up for our Epsilon Fighters, ladies and gentlemen! More information can be found for them on the terminals at your lodgings and other information kiosks throughout the resort! Now let's give a warm welcome to the next wave of newcomers!"

A heavy silence descended over the arena. If it wasn't for the fact that Crazy Hand _just_ said that there were more newcomers coming out, people would be heading for the exits. Eventually, the orange-haired Inkling girl casually strolled out onto the ramp-stage. She had a big smile on her face as she waved to the crowd and produced what looked like a large paint-roller. She slammed it on the ground with a wet smack and started running forward, leaving behind a wide swath of paint in a hypnotically swirling combination of different colors. About three-quarters of the way down, she paused with a concerned look on her face. However, her smile quickly returned as she looked to the ceiling and snapped her fingers. Drums and guitar riffs began to play, and the Inkling went back to saturating the ramp and the entire ringside flooring. Upon completing a circuit around the ring, a commotion was heard at the top of the ramp as seven more Inklings—boys and girls alike—ran out and submerged themselves in the paint and swam forward in the form of large squids. They swam around the ring for a while as the first girl hopped into the ring and patiently stood slightly off-center. One by one, the other Inklings propelled themselves out of the muck and into the ring until they formed a line and waved to the cameras.

"Riding a party bus in from Inkopolis, at a combined weight of 752 units… A veritable rogue's gallery of graffiti guerillas: THE INKLINGS!"

"I had enough trouble trying to think of an entrance for just me, and somehow these people figured out how to wrangle eight freaking people into cooperating!?" Link exclaimed while he applauded.

"I'm not too surprised," Lucas said after he sat back down from his own burst of applause. "They're always listening to their music everywhere they go."

"Good point," Link nodded, folding his arms. "That computer thingie put out several quiet hours messages over the last month. I guess they've been blasting their music and keeping their neighbors up."

"Wonder if they've had to personally deal with their neighbors a lot; especially if you live next to…well, _that."_ Ness pointed up to the stage, indicating the next Smasher coming out.

Two clawed hands reached out and grasped the scaffolding surrounding the entrance. With a mighty heave, the dragon-like creature known as Ridley pulled his hideous form out onto the stage to a sting of climactic notes. The song transitioned into a series of repetitive measures, and he took flight with a screeching roar. Once in the air, the beast proceeded to swoop as close to the screaming spectators as he could manage without actually touching them. After almost a minute of this aerial display, he folded his wings close and dove back towards the ring. Moments before impact, Ridley contorted his body so that he landed feet first, and he used the ropes to stop his forward momentum as he skidded to a halt. Throwing his arms back, the creature let out another screech and spat out several orange fireballs into the air, which dissipated after some distance.

"Exploding out of Zebes, and allowing us to weigh him in at 107 units… He calls himself a Cunning God of Death, but we'll see how _that_ turns out: RIDLEYYYYYYY!"

Ness only paid some attention to this; most of his focus was on Samus again. Similar to Dark Samus's entrance, her helmet was tracking the movement of the emaciated-looking dragon, but now there was the added motion of her non-cannon hand slowly opening and closing.

A quick glance to his companions revealed a contrast in expressions; Lucas was watching the display with open awe and a hint of worry, but Link had a determined glare across his normally guileless face.

He didn't have time to question the seafarer about it, because suddenly…

The lights went out completely, leaving only the blue light of the newcomer's ramp and stage. After a few seconds, that went out too. For ten long seconds, the arena was in perfect pitch darkness until orange and blue flames erupted from the stage as drums and blood-pumping riffs filled the arena. The flames extinguished themselves in time to the music, revealing Simon and Richter. The crowd's applause was deafening as these two men strutted to the arena, effortlessly cracking their whips over the heads of the nearest audience members. Without missing a beat, they leapt into the air and wrapped their whips around a couple of lights and swung towards the ring. As they landed, they each struck a pose—Richter crouching low and Simon standing tall—to the delight of the fans.

"From…two points of history in Transylvania, at a combined weight of 214 units… The holy warriors that'll whip _anyone_ with fangs into shape: RICHTER AND SIMON BELMONT!

"I'm looking forward to fighting those guys!" Link exclaimed, pointing repeatedly at the two men that were now heading for their seats.

"Yeah, you might have to get in line behind _her_." Lucas stated. Ness and Link followed his pointing finger to see it leveled at Bayonetta. The Umbra Witch had a smirk on her lips, an appraising look in her eyes, and a finger lightly tapping her chin. Ness shuddered at the implications, but said nothing as he braced himself for the next Smasher's entrance.

Shrill trumpets pierced the veil as King K. Rool stormed out of the entranceway and onto the stage, powerful arms folded across his golden chest/belly plate. With a flourishing sweep of his cape, he began to stomp in time to the music straight down the ramp. He then stalked around the ring, wild eyes darting about. When the song hit a relative lull, the enormous crocodile jumped upwards and landed on one of the corner posts in an impressive display of balance. Immediately, he pointed to Donkey Kong with a toothy grin, before dragging his thumb across his throat and pointing at the ground. Donkey Kong, in turn, stood up and roared defiantly. As several veteran Smashers worked on restraining the gorilla, K. Rool jumped into the ring and struck a series of mighty poses as if he were making up for a relatively simple entrance.

"From Crocodile Isle, at a hefty 133 units… The Kremling Commander with a Killer Instinct: KING…KAAAAAAAY ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL"

"Security's gonna have a field day with those two," Ness grumbled. At least watching the other Smashers struggling to hold back the ape, while Diddy Kong attempted to calm him down, was entertainment enough.

"I saw him arguing with Pat once, demanding that he has an escort when going to rehearsals," Lucas recalled with a frown.

Cheery music began to blare out over the speakers, and Isabelle shyly poked her head out from the curtains covering the entrance. The few spectators that saw her immediately started shouting and whistling, which made her duck back out of sight with a blush. When K.K. Slider started to sing along to the music, she hopped out onto the stage to a surge of encouraging cheers. After a moment of soaking in the attention, the dog woman raised her little arms and started clapping in an easy rhythm that the crowd joined in on. The clapping appeared to summon several giant inflatable Gyroid Lloids—three on each side of the stage—which wiggled and waved in place in a strange dance. Isabelle took to the air then, riding what looked like a swing supported by balloons towards the ring. Upon landing, she twirled about on the canvas while waving a pair of pom-poms. The crowd, further incited by her movement, added rhythmic swaying to their claps and shouts.

"From the town of Animal Crossing, at a weight of 88 units… The Polite Punisher who won't hesitate to wash your mouth with soap: ISABELLE!"

"Welcome to the Super Smash Bros. car dealership…" Ness quipped, turning to his companions with a smirk. At their blank looks, he let out a dramatic sigh and threw his hands up. "Man, I keep forgetting my audience. Lucas, you're on joke duty from now on."

Lucas folded his arms across his chest and stuck out his tongue. "That'll get old _way_ too fast; you're my only source of material!"

Ness sucked in a hissing breath through pursed lips. "Ooh, going straight for the _throat_. Alright, change of plans; Link's the funny one from here on out."

Link hummed in thought for a moment. "So this seagull walks into a general store, and asks the shopkeeper if they have any grapes—"

Ness couldn't hold back his groan, his hand cutting through the air in a clear signal to get Link to shut up. "Hey, is that the next Smasher? I think it is!"

Incineroar was in their element as they came out to some upbeat tunes, a championship belt slung over one shoulder. They remained just outside the entryway for a full thirty seconds, stopping to pose for photos at both ends of the perpendicular stage, before sauntering down the ramp itself. Every so often it would stop and ruffle a kid's hair, slap hands with people reaching over the security barriers, or outright halt its routine to pose for even more photos. Incineroar seemed to know a lot of different poses, too, for the pokémon took about three minutes to actually reach the bottom of the ramp due to stopping so often. Stomping up the ringside steps, the muscular pokémon scaled the turnbuckles to pose at each corner of the ring, holding up its belt in both hands. The crowd ate this up, chanting as flashbulbs created a strobe effect over each corner Incineroar posed at.

"And finally, from the Alola Region, weighing in at 116 units… The ring's raging flame, that's fueled by the passions of the people… Give it up for…INCINEROOOOAAAAR!"

The crowd stood up and applauded as Incineroar leapt into the air and dove out of the ring. As it moved to stand with the rest of the newcomers, Ness and the other Smashers stood up from where they sat. A lone Mii, operating a TV camera, stood in the ring and slowly panned over the competitors. A swell of music began to fill the arena, and the house lights slowly dimmed to signal an end to the broadcast.

However, the lights didn't stop dimming, and the arena rapidly fell under darkness again. People who had gotten up found themselves unable to leave, and scattered murmurs were heard from all around. Before too long, thankfully, a spotlight once again shone upon Crazy Hand. Ness couldn't help a smile as he'd all but felt the wave of confusion that spread out over the gathered masses.

"Hey! Don't you people remember what I said before!? I said that '_everyone is here_', which means I'm not quite done, yet!" He paused to let this sink in, and scattered applause was heard. "Are you fine folks ready to see some more fighters!?"

A loud cheer broke out at this.

"Louder! I think some of them fell asleep waiting to come out after all this time!"

A powerful roar from the crowd was apparently the answer Crazy Hand was looking for.

"Excellent!" he boomed. "I think they're ready to face your adoring adulations after hearing _that_! So without further ado, let's get the last leg of this night underway!"

Rapid-fire piano notes _just_ started to reach the ears of the spectators, and a decent sized section of the crowd was already going crazy. As horns joined in at the thirteen-second mark, the Ice Climbers leapt out in their signature blue and pink outfits to a wild cacophony of shouts and chants. They each stood at one end of the stage, waving their hands and channeling their Blizzard spells in perfect synchronization. They then quickly switched positions on-stage, moving backwards with a…familiar dance involving arm-swings and rhythmic kicking, and repeated the waving and channeling portion. They performed the odd dance move again, and met at the top of the ramp. At the twenty-six second mark, electric guitars took over the song and they took off at a dead sprint down the ramp, crossing over each other's paths in a double-helix pattern. Just as they were about to hit the ring, Popo dove under the bottom rope and slid in as Nana gracefully cleared the top rope with a strong leap. Popo wasted no time in jumping up to meet Nana in the air, and together they became a whirling dervish of hammers. Still spinning, they landed and began to wildly move around the ring by bouncing off of each set of ropes several times. They maintained their rotation and switched to casting their blizzard spell, turning them into a snowy vortex of freezing winds. Forty-seven seconds into the song, and the notes took on a calming tone as the Climbers ceased spinning to point their hammers out towards the raving throng of spectators.

"From Icicle Mountain's Murasat Village, at a combined weight of 184 units… They're the beau and belle of bludgeoning, forming a bone-chilling duo… Popo and Nana: the ICE CLIMBERRRRRS!"

"HELL YEAH," Ness roared and pumped his fists into the air, and all three boys made their way to the front of the veterans' area to greet the Ice Climbers as they jumped out of the ring. The duo only had enough time to exchange some quick high-tens with the trio before they left to sit in the newcomers' section, but there would be plenty of time to socialize after all this was over with.

There was something annoyingly familiar about that little dance Popo and Nana were doing throughout their routine, but he would have to ask them about it later on.

The speakers started blasting out some type of battle theme as a scaled-up Poké Ball bounced out onto the stage. It came to a halt just before the ramp began to slope down, and wiggled in an oddly…aggressive manner. After a few moments, those seated closest to the stage shouted in alarm when the ball was suddenly struck by a bolt of lightning. Afterwards, it began to roll down the ramp towards the ring and it was struck two more times on the way down. That third hit apparently did the trick; the Poké Ball disintegrated into a thick, heavy cloud of smoke. From under the cover of that smoke, Pichu rocketed towards the ring with his signature Skull Bash, and performed a series of Agility maneuvers to travel from ring post to ring post, waving its stubby little arms at the crowd from each corner it perched upon.

"Striking from the skies of Johto, weighing at a whopping 62 units… The amped-up, shockingly adorable: PICHUUUUU!"

"I never thought I'd see that little guy again!" Ness shouted, clapping the loudest out of the other two boys.

"I remember hearing a rumor once, that was saying Pikachu in the third tournament was evolved from the Pichu you knew," Lucas mused, turning his head to the side in order to look between the two electric rodents.

Ness waved off the notion. "We're pretty sure it's been the same one this whole time. Pichu's no slouch, but that Pikachu is supposed to be a special one."

Link nearly had to shout to be heard over the crowd. "If we can have three different Big Links, why would a different Pikachu be so odd?"

Ness was trying to come up with a rebuttal; his mouth opened and closed several times before he gave up with a shrug. Link had a solid argument, and it was worth looking into when things got slow.

Speaking of Link…

A flute of sorts kicked off the next song, before other instruments joined in for a slow buildup. Somewhere during the percussive bridge leading into the main part of the theme, (Young) Link had stepped out to face the rejoicing mass of attendees. Suddenly, he did an about-face to turn his back towards the ring, pulled out a bomb, and started walking backwards. He then dropped the incendiary, rolled forward, and raised his shield just in time to absorb most of the detonation. The effect of the bomb propelled him down the rest of the ramp in the form of a really strange backwards slide. Just before he slammed into the ring, he performed a smooth back-flip and used a spinning slash to gain enough clearance to go over the ropes. The momentum generated from the sliding was more than enough to carry him to the middle of ring where he casually waved in response to a strong ovation.

"Emerging from Kokiri Forest, weighed down by an inventory of 88 units… The Temporal Terminator for the people of Termina, and The Hero of Time: YOUNG LIIIIIIINK!"

Link stood up on his chair to applaud, stopping every so often to stick his fingers into his mouth and let out a piercing whistle. In a repeat of their moment with the Ice Climbers, the three boys made their way to the barricade to once again slap hands with the young Hero of Time.

As they took their seats again, Ness turned to the cat-eyed sailor. "What had you so excited back there?"

Link was practically bouncing in his seat. "Kindred spirit; he's _also_ got a way to move backwards really fast!"

Ness stared for a few seconds, before the thought finally occurred. "Oh, right…that swimming trick you bring out from time to time, right?"

Link simply nodded, calming down as the lights dimmed.

Slow, but tense music flowed from the sound system in the form of low notes and an almost calm, synthesized rhythm as spotlights slowly panned throughout the seated spectators. Some of the lights were traversing in lazy horizontal patterns, and others were shifting about in vertical movements. A minute or so later, two of the lights briefly intersected over the alcove of an emergency exit on one of the upper levels of the arena. The lights moved on for all of a second before they snapped back over to the alcove, highlighting a cloaked figure raising a lighter to the cigarette protruding from their hood. A shrill sting of jammed together notes interrupted the previous song as cameras zoomed in on the man, and the music immediately changed to a fast, escalated song as the he took off running. Security Miis, also lit up by spotlights, suddenly appeared in hot pursuit. The mysterious man found the path ahead cut off by more security, forcing him to sprint down a nearby aisle of stairs leading down towards the safety rail. He leapt the rail without any hesitation and produced a familiar-looking device that lifted him into the air with a whirring buzz. Once he was over the ring, he let go of the machine and descended towards the canvas, landing hard in a three-point stance. Accompanying the impact was a surge of electricity, which burned away the cloak and revealed Solid Snake to a thunderous roar from the crowd.

"From a highly-classified location—it really says 'redacted', folks—weighing in at 106 units… The Legendary Soldier…a menacing, merciless mercenary: SOLID SNAAAAAAKE!"

"I only saw him practicing the second half…that's so cool," Ness said mostly to himself, though he could see Lucas nodding in agreement.

A steady string of familiar electric guitar notes had the crowd already cheering, and once the song transitioned into a strings and horn combination, they were chanting 'TRAINER, TRAINER, TRAINER' as Red walked down the ramp with a determined gait and his Squirtle leading the way. He made it about a quarter of the way when another wave of cheers (and no small amount of whistles) emanated from the crowd. Leaf was soon standing beside him, her Ivysaur out in front, and together they walked down to the ring. Instead of climbing into the ring—a wise move, given Leaf's attire (Not that Ness would be looking)—they instructed their pokémon to leap into the ring, as they were the true competitors here. Charizard, who had previously come out solo, immediately stood up from where it was sitting and flew into the ring to reunite (on-camera) with its old companions.

"Representing Kanto, at a combined weight of 287 units… Red and Leaf came here to be the very best, and they'll do it by commanding Squirtle, Ivysaur, and Charizard: THE POKEMON TRAINERS!

Lucas had the loudest reaction out of the three; Ness smiled as the blond ceased his cheering and ran up to the barricade to converse with Red. It was a short exchange—merely a nod and maybe a couple of words—before Lucas came jogging back to his chair with a big grin.

Any attempt at conversation between the three boys was pointless by now. Their words were drowned out by the roar of the crowd, who was chanting Wolf's name before his music had a chance to start. A good sign, though, as it showed the people were rallying behind these surprise reveals as well as showing an appreciation for those who were showing up again.

Brassy notes opened up with a quick crescendo, and the man himself came swaggering out. He started to walk down the ramp, but diverted from his routine to look over the crowd with a faint smile on his face. He took this in for about ten seconds before he chuckled and shook his head, schooling his features back into his usual hardened expression and continuing his path to the ring. There weren't many frills to his entrance; it was a simple matter of rolling into the ring, standing in the middle, and letting out a long howl that many in the crowd echoed back.

"And last, but definitely not least… cruising in from the Lylat System, weighing in at 92 units… The ferocious, furred fighter pilot from the stars: WOLF!"

Wolf took his seat to a standing ovation and a few more scattered howls from random spectators. Ness and the other veterans took to applauding out of respect for the new Smashers, and eventually the house lights dimmed.

Once again, Crazy Hand and his old-timey microphone were lit up by a spotlight.

"Let's hear another round of applause for this season's Smashers, everyone!"

Another roar of approval from the crowd was heard, as the large monitors and jumbo-tron suddenly activated to show an outside view of the Primary Arena. The camera—likely mounted to a vehicle—zoomed in on the blank banners hanging on the sides of the building before it started moving. One by one, the banners changed, each one revealing the portrait of an individual competitor. From Mario to Incineroar, the banners were filled in. A few of them consisted of groups of two or more Smashers, but the rest were solo pictures. The camera eventually stopped circling the building, and zoomed out to show a row of banners that remained blank.

Crazy Hand spoke up, once all of the blank banners were on the screen. "Those extra banners are exactly what you think they're for, ladies and gentlemen; we are continuing the tradition from last season!" He paused for another swell of applause. "That's right; we _will_ have more Smashers in our roster, once our Department for Locating Competitors can figure out who is worthy!"

He chopped his hand horizontally, a gesture meant to cut off the next round of applause.

"Enough about all that, though," the glove said, in an almost terse tone. "Enough with the technical details—enough about the hype of things yet to come! You fine people didn't pay good money to attend Opening Ceremonies just to listen to _words_, did you?"

The crowd responded with a resounding 'NO', drawing out a low chuckle from the glove.

"I didn't think so!" Crazy Hand loudly snapped his fingers, and a couple of spotlights shone down on the Newcomers' section. "You would much rather see some _action_ tonight, right?"

Ness was impressed; the teeming mass of people in attendance had to have been here for _hours_ by now. They had slogged through an undoubtedly long wait in line, and sat through a lengthy presentation and parade. By all accounts, they should be tired and grouchy. Somehow, they _still_ managed to rally the energy needed to jump up and scream their approval as Crazy Hand once again took hold of his microphone.

"ALRIGHT THEN," he shouted with a manic cackle. "LET'S HAVE SOME MATCHES!"

* * *

_Author's Notes: (02/02/2020) Congratulations, you made it through! Don't forget to collect your complimentary Smash Resort Fun Bucks* as a reward for enduring this (relative) beast of a chapter! I hope future chapters don't run this long or worse, but knowing my track record of an ever-increasing word-count, I can't make any promises. At least I was talked down from my original plan to put both this and the next chapter (whenever I start it) into one single update._

_As ever, thanks are in order for the views and reviews you lovely people have been throwing my way. If you feel the need to reach me in a more live setting, you can yell at me in the Super Smash Prose server on Discord (gDK48ua)! _

_*Smash Resort Fun Bucks are not accepted anywhere._


	10. Chapter 10

The Elimination Fields briefly shimmered to show their activation, as Popo and Nana stepped off of the glowing red platform that lowered itself to hover just above the entrance ramp. Popo barely registered the humming of the device on his left wrist—synchronized with the Fields' activation—as he watched Pichu and (Young) Link disembark from matching platforms. On the opposite ramp, blue platforms were dropping off their opponents: the orange-haired Inkling girl, Simon Belmont, and Ridley.

The din of the crowd slowly died down in anticipation.

Crazy Hand floated down to the center of the ring. He regarded the assembled fighters, before crooking his finger towards the ceiling. The microphone lowered down and he hovered beside it, holding up three fingers.

"THREE!"

Popo tightened his grip on the mallet.

"TWO!"

Nana's open mitten appeared on his right. "Who're we going after?" She asked.

"ONE!"

Popo took her hand and gave it a quick squeeze, then pointed straight ahead. "The mutant condor over there."

"GO!" Crazy Hand snapped his fingers, and the match began.

Together, they immediately charged down the ramp. Their allies, who were dropped off closer to the center of the stage, had already engaged Simon and the Inkling by the time he'd leapt into the ring, Nana at his heels.

Even before he'd landed, Popo had to twist his body to avoid getting hit by a spinning blur of blue and silver. Turning to where it came from, he spotted Link hunkering down behind his shield, slowly advancing towards Simon. Popo started towards Link, eager to support—

"WATCH OUT!"

Nana's arms wrapped around him and he was dragged to the ground. Struggling, he looked up in time to see the blur from before returning to Simon's hand—some sort of cross. The vampire hunter then lobbed something else up into the air; Popo rolled the both of them off to the right, hearing the all-too familiar _thunk_ of an axe lodging itself where they were as he scrambled to his feet.

Where was Ridley? Popo started to look around when a triangular object landed at his feet. He threw his hands up just in time to shield his face from an explosion of orange ink. Behind him, he could hear sputtering and yelling. Taking a quick step backwards, he risked a glance to Nana.

He bit his lip to stop himself from laughing; she was coated almost entirely in orange, and she turned a baleful glare towards him.

"Not one word," she snarled through gritted teeth.

"Sorry, I—"

A barrage of stinging impacts flared across his back, overriding the rest of his apology with a yelp of pain. He whirled around and saw the smirking squid-girl, some distance away, with her weapon trained on him. Pichu was nowhere in sight.

Her smirk turned into a sneer, and she squeezed the trigger.

_Click._

Her sneer vanished, as Popo's teeth flashed in a brief grin.

Popo and Nana each fired off an Ice Shot and he ran behind the sliding projectiles, trying to gauge the Inkling's next move. She jumped away and to the right, well out of the reach of anything he could land a hit with. As he altered course to continue his pursuit, two things happened: Pichu had rocketed itself towards the Inkling from out of nowhere, and Nana's mitten clamped over his shoulder to bodily haul him backwards.

"Nana!? What the—"

Two large, clawed feet raked the canvas where he had just been standing, leaving behind deep gashes as Ridley landed from a diving attack.

Thankfully, Popo quickly recovered from his shock and took action. Leaping towards the beast, he wound up for an overhead swing. Ridley, unfortunately, was _much_ faster; a clawed hand lashed out and swiped at his side. A second swipe hit his chest straight-on. Popo fell backwards, narrowly avoiding the snapping jaws of a third attack. He hit the ground and tucked into a roll to lessen the impact, halting in a kneeling position after a few tumbles.

With a grunt, he hauled himself to his feet using the ring ropes. He only had a moment to collect himself, though; Nana was buying him time to recover by distracting Ridley, and he needed to be with her. Sprinting back towards the battle, Popo bellowed out a challenging shout.

With an answering roar, Ridley shoved Nana out of the way and rushed to meet Popo head-on.

They clashed near the center of the ring to a chorus of cheers. Popo connected a swing to the side of Ridley's head. Ridley raked a claw across Popo's torso. Fire and ice snuffed each other out. Nana rejoined the fight, and she coordinated with Popo to slowly drive Ridley back towards the ring ropes. Popo saw an opening and held his hand out behind him. When he felt Nana's arm hook around his, he initiated their signature Squall Hammer maneuver and together they spun towards their opponent.

A swipe from Ridley's tail disrupted their maelstrom of mallets before it could do much damage, creating some space for the winged beast. Ridley surged forward and grabbed Popo by the front of his parka. Popo struggled against the mighty grip, but he was easily lifted over and behind Ridley's shoulder. Adding insult to the predicament, Popo got a face-full of membranous wing just before he was flung towards far side of the ring.

Descending towards the ring ropes, Popo couldn't help a wide grin; he had continued to watch that program Ness had shown him all those weeks ago, and admittedly wanted to try a maneuver he'd seen once. He landed on the second rope—the deadliest rope, he'd heard a commentator once say—feet-first and pushed off from it, springing back towards Ridley. Twisting his body in mid-air, he readied his mallet to deliver a backhanded—

—pain, coldness, blinding light—

—blow to his adversary's head. What just happened?

He found himself staring impassively up at the arena lights, lazily noting a strange blackness encroaching upon the edges of his vision. A sharp, agonizing pain in his heart was quickly replaced with a chilly, disconnected feeling. The cacophony of the crowd and the surrounding battles was cut to a distant roar as a heavy fatigue began to set into limbs he realized he could feel less and less of.

Maybe if he just rested his eyes for a few moments…

There was a tight pressure on his left wrist, followed by a sting, and his body was filled with warmth that he didn't realize was missing. His eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright with a gasp, blinking in an effort to get his suddenly blurry vision to coalesce. There was an incessant ringing in his ears as he whipped his head around to get his bearings.

He could see Pichu and the Inkling jockeying for an advantage in the low space surrounding the ring, in front of where the veterans were sitting and cheering; the Inkling awkwardly brandishing a Beam Sword as she attempted to ward off the electric rodent's rapid attacks. Simon and Link were still locked in a stalemate; their respective arsenals of ranged weaponry were keeping one another at bay.

A white sphere dropped from somewhere above, landing near his right hand, but movement from about halfway up the red entrance ramp pulled his attention away before he could really get a look at it.

In the distance, Nana was swinging her mallet with wild abandon at a slowly backpedaling Ridley. Just behind the latter, Popo could just make out the shimmering border of the Elimination Field. They got within a specific distance of the field—maybe a few meters—when it started to steadily pulse. Each pulse was matched by a strong vibration of his wrist-mount.

He couldn't just sit here; not while Nana was so close to elimination. With a grunt, Popo pressed the head of his mallet onto the canvas and used the handle as a crutch to struggle to his feet.

By the time he'd reached a vertical base, the ringing in his ears died down enough for him to realize that the crowd was chanting something. Ignoring the spectators for now, he looked down and saw the white sphere from before, the red exclamation point practically staring back at him. Without a second thought, he scooped up the Pitfall Seed and flung it towards Simon. He didn't wait to see if it hit, instead taking up his mallet and leaping out of the ring.

By the time his feet hit the ground, his hearing returned completely. He sprinted up the ramp, a wide smile breaking out as the words of the crowd reached his ears.

"LET'S GO CLIMBERS," Clap, clap, clap-clap-clap.

"LET'S GO CLIMBERS," Clap, clap, clap-clap-clap.

Ridley's head snapped up to look at Popo; whether this was from hearing the chants or instinct, Popo wasn't sure. Slightly widened eyes narrowed before he unleashed an oddly acrobatic kick that sent Nana flying away, back towards the ring. Popo jumped high and attempted to grab her hand as she sailed overhead, but even activating his double-jump didn't give him the height he'd needed to reach her.

Popo wasn't allowed time to see where she'd landed, because Ridley was already within arm's reach. He brought his mallet down in an overhead swing and was rewarded with the sound of wood smacking against chitin. A lateral swing during his descent only glanced off of Ridley's flank. As he landed, Ridley was rearing back with an orange glow in his maw. Popo only had enough time to raise his hands to guard against a close-range barrage of fireballs.

He channeled a Blizzard spell in retaliation, sealing Ridley in a large block of ice. This close to the Field, one solid hit should eliminate Ridley and he could either find Nana or help out his team. Unfortunately, just as Popo was winding up a mighty swing, Ridley burst out of his frigid prison and all but instantly wrapped his fingers around Popo's throat. A sudden shift in vision left him momentarily disoriented as he was slammed into the ground. Painful sensations ran along his entire backside as Ridley proceeded to drag him at a high speed down the entrance ramp, the faces of spectators passing him in a blur.

They came to a stop beside the ring, if the shaking lights overhead were any indication. He was—mercifully—lifted off the ground, only to be slammed—_un_mercifully—into the ring's apron. He couldn't stop the cry of pain as the back of his head bounced off of the top edge of that short wall.

Ridley's palm pressed against Popo's sternum, pinning him in place and forcing the air out of his lungs. Popo wheezed as Ridley leaned in, turning his long head to get a single eye close to Popo's face. All Popo could do was bare his teeth and struggle against the hand holding him up, as his arm was in too awkward a position to swing his mallet effectively; Ridley seemed to know this, making no move to release him.

The eye quickly scanned over Popo before glaring into his face, and Ridley started to speak in a low hissing voice.

"How did you surv—"

Popo had tucked in his legs and kicked out, twisting his crampons into the side of Ridley's head. Ridley screeched in pain and the hold loosened enough for Popo to wriggle out. He landed in a kneeling position and sucked in a good lungful of air. A shadow passed above, and the head of a mallet heralded the arrival of a pink and white blur. The mass slammed into Ridley's back, between his wings, and he was forced back a couple steps.

Emboldened by Nana's return, Popo surged forward and the two of them began a coordinated assault of mallet swings and ice spells. Ridley stood his ground, answering with a slew of limb strikes and fireballs. Popo shifted his mallet to his left hand and held his right hand, palm facing up, at shoulder-height and crooked his fingers twice. Almost immediately, he felt Nana's boot settle upon his mitten.

Popo pushed upwards with all of his strength, and Nana gracefully leapt off of his hand at the full reach of his arm.

Ridley's head bobbed up and down, clearly torn between which climber to go after. He settled on Popo, stepping forward with his jaws widened.

With a triumphant shout, Nana landed astride Ridley and wasted no time in raining a series of two-handed swings upon his head and neck. Her newfound ride hissed and roared as he spun around and bucked his body in an effort to dismount her, but she hung on tight by grasping his spindly neck with one hand while she continued to bash him with one-handed swipes. All the while, she cackled with glee and yelled various taunts.

Popo was so focused on the spectacle that he _almost_ didn't register a faint fizzling sound somewhere to his left. He tried to tune out the noise, but it tugged at an old instinct that he couldn't ignore for some reason. A pulsing red light started to accompany the noise, demanding attention that he no longer had any choice but to supply.

A Bob-omb glared up at him, its fuse just about burnt up completely.

Eyes widening, Popo shouted a warning and raised his palm towards the living incendiary. Before he could even begin channeling, the Bob-omb detonated, scattering the three combatants with its powerful blast. He barely heard the announcement of Ridley's elimination as he rocketed off towards the stands, pinwheeling as he flew. The last thing he noticed before hitting the Elimination Field was one cheeky spectator holding up a baseball glove like they were going to catch him.

* * *

Nana hit the red crash pads in an indignant landing. She tumbled along the air-filled ground before coming to a rest at the padded far wall, her back and legs resting against it while her head, shoulders, and arms were touching the floor.

Popo barreled through the invisible portal a second later. He skipped like a stone over the cushioned flooring until the top of his head lightly bumped into hers as he finally came to a stop. They lay there in silence for a moment before Nana righted herself with a groan.

As she got to her feet, she looked around the chamber they were in. One wall held a large monitor, currently playing the match in progress. Along the wall next to the right lay a series of deactivated platforms; since the match was set for single elimination, there was no need for them. The left wall was transparent, and she could just make out the outline of a door. Across the hallway was a similar room in blue, and she frowned when she spotted Ridley slowly pacing back and forth within its confines.

"Maybe we shouldn't have gone straight for the 'Cunning God of Death'," she muttered with a stretch. When Popo didn't respond, she tried for a more encouraging tone. "Hey, at least he was taken out too, right?"

He still said nothing.

"…Popo?" She pulled her gaze from Ridley and focused on her partner, who was sitting on the floor watching the monitor.

Its display featured a split-screen, so people could easily watch the remaining Smashers with ease. The screen was currently divided into thirds, with the two sections on the sides showing the separate fights between the Inkling, Pichu, Simon, and Link.

The third section, in the center, was showing replays of Popo and herself taking the fight to Ridley. How they exchanged blows with one another, Nana getting separated from Popo…

…_Three_ different angles of Popo getting run through by Ridley's tail…

…And then Popo just lying there. The camera switched to a bird's-eye view, showing the lack of wound before he suddenly jolted to a seated position. The replay then skipped ahead to when the Bob-omb marched up to their final standoff with Ridley, eliminating all three of them with its detonation. Following these replays, the center of the display collapsed and the other two fights were now shown side-by-side.

She grimaced as memories of that horrible attack bobbed to the surface of her mind. Her panicked screaming of Popo's name a she watched his body fall to the canvas, then pursuing Ridley up the ramp in a blind rage…

…No. She can dwell on that _after_ tending to him.

She slowly walked around him, feeling a pang of pity at how…small he looked, silhouetted against the glow of the screen. She came to a stop in front of him, and he blankly stared through her with misty eyes. He absently rubbed at his chest while he stared ahead, eventually blinking and raising his eyes to hers with a pleading look that she hadn't seen in years.

"Are…are we done now?" he asked in a soft voice. "I need to lie down…"

She took a deep breath and knelt before him, drawing him into a hug. "I wish we were; they're gonna want us to stick around until the broadcast closes out… You think you can hold out for a bit more?"

"No, I—" He suddenly tensed up and shoved her away. With a squawk of alarm she fell onto her rear. Scathing words died in her mouth though as she watched Popo leap to his feet, hands clamped firmly over his mouth. He then lurched towards the transparent wall and shouldered the door open, slamming it into the poor worker Mii that had arrived to open it for him. After a frantic search of the hallway, he dashed off towards the left.

Nana made it to the door just in time to watch Popo drape himself over the edge of an equipment container and empty his stomach into it. Another Mii saw this and started shouting as he floated over with rage on his face.

"HEY!" roared Nana as she stomped across the short distance to intervene. She ignored the tingling sensation of static discharge as she held her nose less than an inch from the Mii's appalled face. "_You_ try keeping a meal down after watching yourself get impaled—"

"Oh, _Sila_…" Popo moaned, followed by more retching.

"—repeatedly on television!" She paused before quickly adding, "Oh, uh, sorry Popo."

"'S okay," He murmured.

The Mii tried to return to a semblance of his previous outrage. "But Miss, he's using—"

"Wait, hold on a second." Nana spun away from the flustered Mii and knelt beside Popo. She checked the front of his parka and, seeing it was clean, took a moment to remove it. She then helped him resume his previous stance over the metal box, whispering encouraging words into his ear. She was pleased to see that, apart from the chunky puddle of Popo's last meal, the container was empty.

That in mind, she rounded back onto the Mii. "You would prefer him puking all over the _floor!?_ Did Master Hand forget to give you people common sense or something!?" She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "There's nothing else in that box. So when he's done, you can have someone take it out back, hose it out, and it'll be like nothing happened. Is that so hard?"

"Y…yes, Miss—I mean no, Miss!" The Mii hovered backwards, spherical hands held out as if he were warding off a wild animal. "Just…leave it when he's finished with it…"

Without waiting for an answer, the worker scurried away. As much as he could 'scurry' while hovering over the ground, anyway.

A minute passed with only the sounds of Popo spitting out the last vestiges of bile to fill the silence. After a final wet cough, she heard him shuffling to his feet.

"I…I think I'm good now," He said after clearing his throat. "I need a rinse so _badly_, though…"

"Maybe they'll give us some water after everyone's done with the fight," She replied, turning his parka over in her hands. She was surprised to see that his coat, while suffused with the odor of exertion (and a hint of bile), had no visible tears or holes in it. After removing and pocketing her leather mittens, she ran a hand over the soft fabric of the parka. There wasn't a mark to be found anywhere on it.

She turned around to get a better look at her partner. Ignoring his justified pallor, he appeared otherwise healthy. Standing straight in spite of just losing his lunch, no tears or cuts in his undershirt, and his eyes were clear and alert.

Their gazes locked and Nana raised her eyebrows slightly. Popo's lips twisted and he looked down and to his right with a tiny shake of the head. Her eyebrows shot up further and she closed the short distance between them to glare into his eyes.

He leaned back and rubbed his hands over his face. "Nana, please—"

"No, Popo," she said, commanding notes seeping into her voice. She grabbed his hands and pulled them down so she could continue to stare into his eyes. "This isn't something you're getting out of talking about. I was _also_ there when it happened, so don't think it didn't affect—"

"No, it's—"

"COD _DAMN_ IT," a voice thundered from the blue padded room. Nana turned around just in time to see what looked like a heavily modified…bucket…bounce off of the transparent wall with enough force to rattle it. Orange ink marked the point of impact, and slowly ran down the surface.

That's right; the match was still going on.

With an exasperated sigh she released his hands and spun on her heel. She'd taken a few steps towards the red room when Popo took a gentle, but firm, hold of her hand. Part of her wanted to press on, but she didn't really feel up for a tug-of-war at present.

Instead she stopped, but made no move to look at him.

"Please, Nana, just…" She heard him take a deep breath. "...I _promise_ we'll talk about this, okay? Not here, though; when we get home tonight." His thumb lightly brushed over her palm. "If uh, that's alright with you, I mean."

Nana couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes towards the ceiling. This was as good as she was going to negotiate from the boy, but she supposed this really wasn't something to discuss in front of everyone else—_especially_ with the culprit close by.

After a couple seconds of mulling it over, Nana gave his hand a quick squeeze and pulled him forward as she walked. The first worker Mii held the door open for them as they drew near, and closed it behind them.

Once they were isolated again, she spun to face Popo once more. "Yeah, that's alright. And I'm holding you to this, okay? I don't want either of us getting broody and trying to bottle it up, unless you want a repeat of what's happened every other time we did that." She leaned in, almost touching her nose to his. "…Do you?"

He looked down for a second and shook his head. "No… No, I don't."

Placing her palm under his chin, she lifted his gaze so he could take in her smile. "Good! Now let's watch the rest of this match and we can—"

A white flash from behind Popo derailed her train of thought, and she stopped to peer around him to see the cause of it. If this was a photographer, she was going to take her mallet and shove it right up their…

Who she saw instead was Simon, sprawled on the air-cushioned floor of the blue room. The distraction may have made her smile falter, but seeing what it meant transformed that smile into a toothy grin when she looked to Popo again.

He was looking at the monitor with a smile of his own. "Looks like they were busy winning while we were busy being dramatic, huh," he said with a small shake of his head.

"We only have a few seconds—here, put this back on," She replied, pushing Popo's parka into his chest. He fumbled with the coat for a second before he quickly donned it, just in time for the worker Mii to, once again, open the door and call out to them.

"Excuse me, ah…Ice Climbers, is it?" He asked timidly; either he was being polite, or he was shaken by Nana's outburst from a minute ago. Upon hearing their confirmation, the small frown flickered into a polite smile and he nodded. "Excellent, if you two could step onto the circle over there, you will be teleported back to your team."

Nana followed the Mii's pointing appendage, which indicated a softly glowing circle of white about six feet across. There must have been a quizzical look on her face when she looked to Popo again, because all he did was smile and shrug as he stepped into the circle and immediately vanished.

She couldn't help a small giggle as she followed suit, waving at the cheering crowd after appearing at Popo's side.

* * *

Of the many things Popo had missed from his and Nana's previous tournaments, room parties ranked rather high on the list.

Tonight, however, Popo just wasn't in the partying mood. After the broadcast closed out, he had showered, changed into some casual clothing, and wanted nothing more than to go straight home and probably entertain nightmares of getting impaled by Ridley's tail.

Unfortunately, through the power of his hesitance to immediately turn down the invitation, combined with Nana's pouting face (he really should carry a bag for that), he found himself agreeing to go.

The large, open layout of King Dedede's miniaturized castle proved itself the perfect venue for such a gathering. Long tables ran along two sides of the throne room, displaying all sorts of snacks, entrees, and bowls of punch, while coolers filled with ice and cans were spaced out along the rear wall. Numerous Waddle Dees threaded through the crowd of Smashers, tasked with keeping the provisions stocked or cleaning up the occasional litter. Upbeat music was heard coming from hidden speakers, but the volume was low enough for people to converse without straining their hearing. While the atmosphere didn't completely fix his malaise, Popo's spirits were at least _slightly_ lifted.

After congratulating Isabelle and Incineroar on their first victory in Smash, Popo headed towards one of the coolers in the back and fished out one of the cans protruding from the ice cubes.

The black lettering on a white backdrop declared the drink to be 'Pale Talon Seltzer', and featured a clawed hand curling to make what looked like a series of crescent moon shapes. Text on the bottom third of the can boasted a black cherry flavor, which automatically made it look more appealing than the cans of 'CuatroCrazy' in the adjacent cooler.

With a small smile, Popo leaned against the wall, cracked open the can, and took a long pull from it.

Immediately, he grimaced at the foul taste and glared down at the can.

"Not what I expected," he muttered after swallowing the carbonated liquid.

Oh, the boasted flavor was there; it was just buried under a strong layer of bitterness. The tradeoff wasn't worth it, though; if Popo wasn't raised to waste food, he would have poured it out right then and there. Determined to finish it, Popo gingerly sipped the offending drink while he surveyed the crowd.

It didn't take him long to spot Nana, chatting animatedly with Daisy and Luigi while she sampled various snacks.

The sight immediately conjured a memory from about a year and a half ago: Murasat's feast hall was playing host to some sort of celebration, and everyone was having a good time of…whatever the festivities were about.

Everyone except for Popo, anyway, who had sulked while leaning against a support pillar; instead of enjoying himself, he was far too concerned with watching other boys approach Nana and her group of friends, and heaving a sigh of relief when they walked away either alone or with someone else. It was obvious that they were asking for her to join them in a dance, because that was what _he_ was trying to work up the courage to do. In the end, while he couldn't go through with it, he had felt some relief at seeing that none of the other boys had succeeded either. Nana had chastised him the next day; according to her, he'd ignored a couple of girls that had approached him with similar intent.

He grinned and took another swig of his drink (the taste was growing on him) as he continued to reminisce on his stupidity. After finishing, he crumpled up the can and lobbed it towards a trash bin, sighing when his shot fell considerably short of its mark. He pushed off from the wall and walked over to pick up the can and properly dispose of it. On the way back to his previous spot, he stopped by the cooler from before and checked out the other flavors. After some internal deliberation, he selected a can that was optimistically labeled 'Tangerine' and leaned against the wall once more.

"OHMIGOSH! I FINALLY FOUND YOU, POPO!"

Popo jumped upon hearing the loud, feminine drawl; his unopened drink was jostled about in his hands as he struggled to keep from dropping it. He finally secured the can by catching it just before it hit the ground, and straightened with a sigh of relief.

Finally feeling composed, he looked to the source of the voice and it took all of his mental fortitude to not recoil.

Standing before Popo was the absolute personification of…_pink_. Pink hair, pink dress, pink shoes…in fact, the only things about this girl's attire that weren't pink were her blue and white candy-striped leggings and the daisy on the front of her dress. Her dark eyes seemed to sparkle as she closed the distance between them with a friendly smile on her face.

Settling against the wall beside him, that smile turned sheepish.

"Totes sorry for gushing like that," She tittered. "It's just that I've been trying to meet you ever since I heard about your return." She held out her hand. "My name's Primm."

Popo couldn't keep an eyebrow from rising, but he returned the smile and shook the offered appendage. Her grip was surprisingly strong, but considering she was in a Smashers-only gathering, it made sense.

"Primm, huh? You don't seem so formal to me." He released her hand with a hearty chuckle, which escalated into full-on laughter when he spotted a pouty glare cross her features for a fraction of a second. Taking advantage of the brief lull in conversation, he popped the tab on his drink.

…Only for the can to erupt, spraying his face, hair, and shirt with a burst of carbonated liquid.

Popo just stood there, locked in position; slightly hunched over, still holding onto the tab with his thumb and forefinger. He leveled a baleful glare at the can for a few seconds before straightening with a sigh. He looked around for a towel, a napkin—anything to clean up with. Nothing was close at hand, so he opted to wipe his face off with the driest part of his shirt sleeve.

"Ha, you totally deserved that!" Primm exclaimed. She had a lopsided, toothy grin across her face as she folded her arms.

"Yeah, I guess I did," He stuck his tongue out towards her before bringing the can to his lips; it didn't seem like he'd lost _too_ much of the drink. The first few sips were all foam, but once he finally got to the actual liquid, he found the flavoring a bit more in line with what was advertised on the can. It still had that odd bitterness masking most of the taste, but he'll just have to deal with it.

A thought occurred, and he whipped his head to cast a curious glance towards Primm. "Wait, you said you were _trying_ to meet us?"

"Mhm, yep," she chirped and beamed at him. "When we first got here, we had no idea what we were doing—we'd never fought before. They let us look through a library of match videos, and that's where I saw you."

She paused for a moment, looking to the ceiling with a sigh. "You're an inspiration, you know?"

He shook his head, taking another drink. "That's…what? I've never heard that before. Not when people talk about _us_."

"Oh, don't be so modest; I've seen the footage of your old matches. You've, like, taken Fox—_Fox_, of all people—down, by yourself, when he totally had a one-life lead over you!" Her eyes flashed, and she waved a hand in a slow arc. "And that's just a little bit of what I'd watched; I've seen _so_ many highlights where you stood your ground and either won solo or at least had a good showing against the odds."

He didn't respond for a few moments, trying to cover up his blush with the action of chugging the rest of his drink. Somehow, it only worsened the burning in his cheeks.

He didn't like thinking about those fights, glorious as they might have looked to viewers. While Nana—or himself, if she was leading in the fight—was always brought back in to strike a victory pose right after, it just wasn't the same as being together when the final blow was struck.

Still, he thought with a pang of guilt, it was better than a loss.

He cleared his throat, suddenly realizing he'd been silent for a bit too long. Turning to face Primm, Popo was surprised that he was still holding her undivided attention. "Well, uh, you guys seemed to do well in the matches I'd seen, so I'm glad we…helped? Somehow?"

Primm giggled, waving her hand again. "Enough about that, though. Now that I finally have you here, why don't ya tell me about yourself? Computer files are like, sooooo boring compared to having the real deal right here, ya know?"

"I, uh…" His gaze fell; unfortunately the empty can in his grasp couldn't provide him advice on how best to handle this new request.

"We uh…um…climb mountains and…bring back stolen crops, I guess?" He grimaced as he brought his eyes back to meet Primm's. "It's really not all that exciting, if you compare it to the other stories I've heard—"

"Ugh, as _if_," Primm coolly interjected. She held out a palm towards him and shook her head. "You wanna talk about boring? The worst we _ever_ have to deal with is the occasional swarm of wasps and maybe—_maybe_—a totally rude neighbor or two. You're saving your village; we just live in ours."

Popo's jaw dropped. In all of the times Nana and he had explained their roles back home, this was the first time he'd heard _praise_ like this. Upon collecting himself, he couldn't help standing a little straighter then, the first time since the match that he'd felt a measure of pride.

"Well, I guess if you put it _that_ way, I suppose you have a point." He took a deep breath in through his nose, and blinked. When did he get so congested?

"I _know_ I have a point." She gave him a smile and a wink, before she suddenly looked annoyed. She reached into her pocket and withdrew a device that silently buzzed in her hand. She stared at its display, her eyes narrowing.

"Ugh," she scoffed. "I gotta go. Look, is there any time I could, like, see you again? I really wanna get to know you more."

"Oh, uh…I'm not sure. I think Nana and I are gonna be pretty busy for a bit," he scratched his cheek in thought and then smiled widely. "But I'm sure we could all hang out sometime!"

Primm's expression turned cheery after a few moments, and she nodded with a matching smile. "Sweet! I'll totally be in touch then. Bye-eeeeeee!"

Popo stared after her as she disappeared into the crowd, waving at him as she left. By the time he'd raised his hand to respond, she'd been gone for some time. Shrugging and sighing, he pushed off from the wall to start a stumbling search for the bathroom.

Why was he even stumbling? Maybe he was just tired…

* * *

Nana stalked her way through the crowd of partying Smashers, her face flushed with embarrassment.

Without realizing it, she had absolutely _demolished_ nearly two platters' worth of snack foods. The tiny sandwiches of the first platter were addictive, but only slightly less than the crackers, meats, and cheeses of the other one. The moment she'd laid eyes on the food, a ravenous feeling—brought on from her earlier match, no doubt—overtook her. The only saving grace to the predicament was that she was able to maintain conversation and _still_ have a semblance of manners—an ability that Popo certainly didn't possess.

Where _did_ Popo run off to, anyway?

He'd split off from her…maybe a half-hour ago. She wasn't terribly concerned; the parties of tournaments past often saw them returning to their room at the old Mansion at wildly different hours. It wasn't an uncommon sight for one to tiptoe into the room while the other was long asleep, usually accompanied by early-morning birdsong. The situation never applied to just one of them; Popo was just as likely to stay out late as Nana was.

Judging by his demeanor, he was just as likely to duck out early, and try to sleep to avoid talking to her.

That would be…unacceptable.

Snapping her fingers, she altered course and made her way to the front entrance. Once there, she knelt down to address the two Waddle Dees on sentry duty.

"Hey, can you guys do me a huge favor?" At their nods, she smiled and continued. "If you see Popo, don't let him leave without me, okay?"

With (relatively) stern expressions, they straightened their posture and saluted her.

She giggled at their odd display of dutifulness and went back into the main chamber, feeling a weight lifted off her shoulders. She felt terrible for thinking that Popo would try to slip out, but he hadn't been in a proper state of mind since watching that terrible replay; he'd barely paid attention to the two matches that followed theirs, and mechanically applauded only when the others did at the end of a match.

A more troubling observation: Popo didn't stop touching his chest throughout the rest of the night. After the fifth or tenth time she'd seen this, she grabbed hold of his hand to stop him; if the cameras caught him looking in such a fugue state, Master Hand might reprimand them. Thankfully, he appeared to snap out of it. After a moment, he'd laced his fingers with hers and spent the rest of their time at the Arena rubbing his thumb over her own. She'd responded in kind, and they were soon engaged in a series of the slowest, gentlest thumb-wrestling matches ever performed. They'd kept their little games up all the way until it was time to separate so they could shower and change; it took some coaxing, but he eventually released her hand so they could take care of their tasks.

And now…now she couldn't find him.

The irony—or maybe it was just coincidental—was not lost on her.

Nana made her way to the snack tables on the other side of the room. The section she'd approached had a variety of desserts on display, which she was more than happy enough to sample from. With a grin, she sidled up to the table and snatched a few miniature cupcakes off of one of the platters and popped one into her waiting mouth.

"Ah, Nana, _there_ you are."

The voice that drifted to her ears, over the din of the other partygoers, was a strange one. It was airy and sophisticated, but the cadence was rapid-fire, not unlike Isabelle's delivery. They also sounded quite young.

This could explain why they waited until she'd stuffed her face to talk to her…

"Yuf?" She mumbled around her mouthful of food. She swallowed the cupcake and turned to face whoever it was that was apparently looking for her.

Standing before her was a brown-haired boy about Popo's height—maybe a touch taller—clad in a sporty-looking yellow and black shirt, faded black (or maybe just dark gray) shorts, and blue shoes. There was a glint in his blue eyes as he approached with a small smirk on his lips.

"Hey, congratulations on your win tonight," he exclaimed, holding out a hand. "The name's Francis. But please, call me York."

"Oh, thank you." With slightly narrowed eyes, Nana regarded the offered hand for a second, before turning her attention back to see an expectant look on his face. With a small nod, she took his hand to give it a rough shake with her strongest hold. She was immediately rewarded with his eyes widening—as well as his smirk faltering—slightly. She couldn't say she wasn't impressed though; his grip was rather firm in spite of her surprise attack.

With an overly-sweet smile, she relinquished his hand and took what she hoped was an obvious step backwards.

To York's credit, he seemed to recover quickly enough. His smirk returned as he casually leaned against the snack table's edge.

"I gotta say," he began, unnecessarily smoothing out his hair with a light touch. "You looked very impressive out there, going after that hideous thing on your own."

"Yeah, I guess." She took a smaller bite of her next cupcake, and thought about a response as she chewed and swallowed the morsel. After a moment, she shrugged and continued. "Popo was down, and I needed to keep Ridley away from him. This isn't the first time one of us has had to do that for the other."

York's arms folded over his chest. "Fair point, fair point. Still, have you ever thought of maybe…going solo?"

Nana took in a deep breath and flared out her nostrils as she exhaled. Fists she didn't realize she was clenching had loosened up; she briefly looked in her left hand and frowned at the crushed cupcake therein before turning a sharpened glare towards York.

"Explain."

"You know, step out of your little friend's shadow. Don't you ever sit back and think that maybe he's holding—Hey, where're you going?"

"Away," she bit out. "From you."

Two steps were taken before Nana felt a hand grab hold of her upper arm, and she stopped immediately. York heaved a sigh of sigh of obvious relief.

"Good, good; I was afraid you wouldn't see reason and—"

"Take it off before I _break_ it off." She hissed.

"Uh, beg your pardon?" He leaned back, but his hand was still holding strong.

"Let. Go," she snarled, whirling around and glaring straight into his eyes. A second passed before he nervously glanced to his hand, and his grip quickly released.

Her upper lip pulled back into a sneer, and she leveled her index finger straight at his face.

"Let me be perfectly clear on two things here. First off, I don't know how you do things where _you're_ from, but you don't ever—_EEEEVER_—grab someone like that when they're trying to walk away!" She pulled her hand back to point towards the ceiling and raised a second finger. "Secondly, Popo and I are a _team_. We are _partners_; no one is in anyone else's 'shadow' or 'holding the other back'."

By now, she'd realized she was visibly trembling. She took a deep breath and felt herself calming down. She was definitely still wound up, but at least she no longer felt the urge to put this boy through the snack table. Several choice phrases were assembled on the tip of her tongue, but were dismissed when she abruptly spun on her heel and stormed off before he had a chance to say anything or pursue her.

Those closest to the altercation gave her a wide berth, but fortunately even with this many people in the room there was enough space that most didn't need to. Only a few heads had turned—most notably Wolf and a few Inklings, which Nana was fine with. Taking a quick moment to pop the squished remains of the cupcake into her mouth, she stepped to another section of the snack table and grabbed a napkin to wipe the crumbs, frosting, and sprinkles that were still stuck to her left hand.

This wasn't the first—and unlikely to be the last—time that someone had broached the subject of breaking up their team. The difference between this encounter and the others, though, was that the other times were done under a rather transparent veneer of complaints about their teamwork. _That_ guy, on the other hand…

Sudden shouting from the back of the party room jolted her from her thoughts. Rather, it was _who_ was shouting that drew her attention more than the noise itself. She picked out Snake and Captain Falcon easily enough, but hearing Popo's voice—considerably louder than the other two—piqued her curiosity.

By the time she got to the scene of the argument, there was a quite the crowd blocking her view, but she didn't need her eyes to tell her that Popo was uncharacteristically agitated about something, and that Snake and Falcon were trying to calm him down. After about a minute of hopping to try seeing over the crowd, she finally found an avenue of entry and shouldered her way between Olimar and Little Mac with a muttered apology.

"I still don't get it," Popo was saying from where he sat against the wall. "All of these coolers are fair game, but some of them are only fair game to grownups?"

"Yeah, that's about the short of it, little man," Falcon nodded with an openly-amused smile. He turned to Snake and muttered something. Snake looked into the cooler and pointed several times, before he turned back to Falcon and held up four fingers. Falcon let out a low whistle and turned back to Popo. "I think you had enough, though."

Popo folded his arms over his knees and plopped his forehead into them. "Why even put them out there if they're not meant for everyone? That's stupid…like a _bird_."

Nana frowned, taking in Popo's demeanor. What glimpses she could catch of his face showed a flushed complexion. More concerning was the way his words ran together. It was almost as if…

Oh no.

"Yeah, that was my bad," Falcon rubbed at the back of his neck, looking sheepish. "You kiddos never came back to this section last season, but I guess I'll label them from here on out." He took a step forward. "Why don't we get you some water, and maybe find Nana to take you home?"

"We're not little kids anymore," Popo scoffed. "What makes these drinks so 'adult' anyway? They just taste weird. You guys are weird!"

Snake was chuckling now, until he turned and locked eyes with Nana. With a small nod, he started to repeatedly cough and clear his throat to get Popo's attention. Popo, however, either ignored or didn't receive the signal and kept prattling on.

"For that matter, what cuts me off from being an adult here anyway?" He threw his hands up with widened eyes. "We've been climbing mountains since freaking _forever_. Routinely fought off bears and giant birds. Hell; back home, they consider Nana and me old enough to—"

"_POPO,"_ Nana squeaked, stamping her foot loudly.

Nana felt like her face could melt the entirety of Icicle Mountain; every eye in the immediate area was on her. The one silver lining was that Popo was _also_ focused on her, his train of thought clearly halted. Taking a deep breath, she crossed the thankfully short distance between them with a stiff gait and posture.

"Oh, hi Nana," His face brightened with a dopey grin. "You having a good time tonight?"

"I, uh…" Nana gaped at him, and turned towards the crowd. Sensing their entertainment was cut short, they already began to disperse with a murmur of disappointment. She could barely make out Pit's voice, asking what Popo was about to say, but Palutena expertly diverted his attention towards one of the buffet tables.

Nana made a mental note to thank her later, and turned towards Snake and Falcon. Both looked apologetic but at least had the good graces to look her in the eyes.

Snake eventually broke the relative silence when he stepped forward, picking up one of the coolers.

"Sorry about that," he grumbled, throwing a pointed look towards Falcon. "_Someone_ insisted no one else would really go through these, and decided not to have them guarded."

He then turned a look of scrutiny to Popo. "Anyway, he'll be alright in a few hours. Have him walk around for a bit, and make sure he takes water before going to bed."

Nodding her thanks, Nana turned back to Popo. "Alright then, I think it's time for us to leave." She knelt down beside him, draped one of his arms over her shoulder, and easily hoisted him to his feet. "C'mon now, up we go."

Popo simply laughed as he was lifted, and he leaned on her as they walked out of the castle. She made sure to thank the Waddle Dees at the entrance as they left, and was acutely aware of how his arm had slipped off of her shoulders and settled around her waist as they began the first of a couple circuits around the Residential District. Maybe the day where he did things like this in the open _without_ the aid of alcohol would come soon.

At least this was more manageable than the seagull wine incident…

* * *

A long, proper shower and a change of clothes later, Popo found himself seated on the floor of their home's second-floor hallway, slumped against the closed bedroom door. He sighed and stared up at the ceiling. The back of his head thumped lightly against the wooden surface, and he closed his eyes.

"Hey, don't fall asleep out there!" Nana shouted from inside the bedroom. For someone who wanted him to open up and talk, she sure was taking her time in changing into her sleepwear.

Not that he could particularly blame her. They both had to think of what words they were going to say soon, and he found his already limited vernacular stunted even further. He wasn't feeling quite as ungainly as he'd been a couple hours earlier, but there was still an odd delay between his brain and his actions.

He'll never drink that Pale Talon crap again…

"Don't worry, I'm awake. I'm just…thinking?" He scratched his head for a second, and then shrugged to himself.

"You definitely shouldn't do that in your condition; you're not the fun kind of drunk, you know?"

He quickly lost the fight to keep the smile off of his face and snorted. "You don't like me when I'm chatty, uncoordinated, and easy to convince?"

"Hmm…maybe just that last part." She answered with a giggle, and his heart fluttered. "But I think I prefer to melt your stubbornness away with hard work and feminine wiles."

He blew out a raspberry, making sure it was loud enough for her to hear. "Is it really considered 'hard work' when you know me so well?"

She answered with a raspberry of her own. "Back home? It _definitely_ took work; I had to hide everything under double-speak in case Harasen was nearby." He heard the sound of fabric rustling for a few seconds before she continued. "Here, though, I can afford to be a _lot_ more direct with you. You can come in now, by the way."

"Right, thanks," Popo mumbled.

It took far more effort than he usually needed, but he got to his feet. He took a moment to make sure his legs were steady, and he opened the bedroom door.

Nana smiled up at him as he entered. Clad in a simple ensemble of a (rather short) pair of shorts and a T-shirt, she was seated on the edge of the bed, patting the mattress beside her and slowly kicking her feet. While a small part of his brain was wondering why it took her so long to pick out her pajamas, Popo was content to let his eyes track the back-and-forth movement of her legs.

This was, of course, up until Nana quite _loudly_ cleared her throat, snapping him out of his reverie.

"You'll have plenty of time to ogle me later, Love," She said with a grin. After a moment, her expression sobered slightly and she eventually broke eye-contact to look at the floor. "I shouldn't have made you go to that party; we should have just come straight home and talked about…about…"

"Hey," he said in a gentle voice. "If it helps at all, I had a pretty good time." He had a smile waiting for her when she brought her eyes back to his. A few seconds passed in silence before he took up her earlier offer to sit beside her and settled an arm around her shoulders. "So let's talk about…well, _that_. Tell me what you saw."

Nana stared straight ahead for a minute, her jaw clenching and unclenching in silence. While she did this, she took hold of the hand of the arm he had around her and squeezed tightly. When she spoke, it was a low murmur.

"I saw what you eventually saw in that replay," The words came out slowly and hesitantly. "Ridley's tail went right through your body, and when he yanked it out, you just…tipped over and fell like a hewn tree."

To emphasize her point, she raised a finger to point towards the ceiling, before slowly lowering it to be parallel to the floor.

She started talking faster then, the words coming out in a deluge. "I-I didn't know what to do! You didn't get back up, and that…that _thing_ needed to be driven off!" She released his hand to wrap her arms around his middle, turning his body enough to press her face against his chest. "I just threw everything I could think of at him, not once thinking that he was trying to lure me away…"

Popo returned her embrace, resting his chin on top of her head. After a while, he slowly rocked from side to side and absently inhaled the citrusy fragrance of her slightly damp hair.

She took several deep breaths and seemed to collect herself. "Then he knocks me away and suddenly you're there trying to catch me. I ended up in that scaffold with the lights, and I couldn't help just watching you to make sure you were actually okay. After he dragged you down to the ring, that's when I remembered we were still in a match."

Muffled, shaky laughter soon followed, punctuated by a wet sniffle. "It's silly, I know; I should have remembered that the…whatever that powers the matches…keeps us from being hurt permanently, but in that moment…I actually thought I'd lost you. I didn't even stop to think about how there was no mess or wound." She pulled back a bit, looking up at him with teary eyes and a wan smile. "Listen to me, prattling on when you were the one who got hurt. What happened?"

His throat briefly constricted, and he had to avert his eyes in order to stop feeding off of Nana's emotions.

"I didn't even know what it was that got me until I saw it afterwards," he finally admitted. "One second I'm getting ready to smack him, and the next I'm staring up at the lights with this intense pain in my chest. I just thought he hit me really hard, you know?"

He frowned, looking her in the eyes again. "After the pain faded, though, there was a…a coldness that I'd never felt before." He swallowed thickly to prevent a sudden lump that threatened to form in his throat. "Nana, we've stood on the windswept summit of Icicle Mountain—the highest point in the region—and it was a _furnace_ compared to what I'd felt laying in the middle of that ring, even if it was just for just a couple seconds."

In the heavy silence that followed, they continued to hold each other. The only sound was their breathing and the whir of the air conditioning as it turned itself on. After a few minutes, Popo sighed and scooted them both up the bed a bit before he slowly laid down to rest his head on the pillow. Nana giggled and draped herself over him, adjusting her position so her ear was pressed to his chest.

In a mild state of confusion, he smiled and idly stroked her hair. "What're you doing?"

With a sleepy little smile, Nana looked up at him.

"Popo, do you remember what you said to me on the night you confessed?"

Popo quickly looked to the ceiling, biting his lip to look like he was thinking and to keep a smile from breaking out. Of course he remembered; it was the most important night of his life.

"Uh, was it 'stop laughing, I'm being serious here'?"

She giggled again. "No, you idiot, it was after that."

He feigned an innocent look, humming in thought and stroking his chin with his free hand. After dragging the act out for a bit, he once again turned his attention to Nana, who sported an impatient glare. Caught flat-footed, and her face mere inches from his own, he couldn't help breaking character. He poorly covered his grin with his hand before finally dropping the façade altogether.

"Alright, alright, I remember," He held his hands up in mock-surrender. "I believe I said 'Nana, my heart belongs to you'. Is that what you're looking for?"

Her face morphed into a pleased expression so fast, she may as well have been taking acting lessons from a Mii.

"Yep, that's the line I fell for!" She once again pressed her ear to his chest and closed her eyes with a long sigh. "And I'll sleep much better tonight, knowing that my most important possession is still beating, safe and warm."

Popo blushed and let his head fall back against the pillow, not having a thing to say in response. It was just as well though, because the last thing he wanted to do now was ruin the mood. Instead, he let his fingers become entangled in her hair, gently toying with the strands until sleep claimed him.

* * *

_Author's Note: (05/02/2020) Hey, sorry about the time it took to update this thing! I swear I've been chipping at it since the last one was posted, but a combination of being pulled out of unemployment and Animal Crossing did a fine job of killing my free time. Thank you all for your patience, and the views/reviews that you've given me in my absence. _

_Admittedly, I don't know how to feel about the opening scene, and I really want to hear your thoughts or tips for future fight scenes. Again, ___If you feel the need to reach me in a more live setting, you can yell at me in the Super Smash Prose server on Discord (gDK48ua)! __

_EDIT FOR CLARIFICATION: Primm and York are two of the eight Villagers that will show up from time to time. I plan to use all eight, but not at once.  
_


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